Heart Wood, page 13
“You really did miss it, didn’t you?” Mina asked.
Dagan nodded. “I always do. I always will, I think.”
“But you’re determined to go?”
“It’s either that or waste all that training I worked so hard on.” He chuckled.
Mina was quiet for a moment, shadows passing over her pensive expression as they wandered beneath the trees. “I just can’t picture you being out there alone for moons at a time,” she finally said. “It doesn’t feel like you.”
“Oh?” Dagan pretended he had no idea what she could mean, though more than one person had said as much to him. Even members of his own family had thought it a mismatch, for Dagan to take up a lonely profession like scouting.
“You’re just the center of social life, especially for everyone our age.” She took his arm and leaned on it.
He covered her hand with his and squeezed her arm. “Oh, you were all in your cups last night long before I wandered into the settlement.”
She made a face. “Maybe, but it didn’t get really fun until you came.”
He preened a little, because how could he not? “Flattery will get you everywhere, darling. But come on, that’s about the settlement and the winery crowd. You said you can’t picture me out there alone. Why not?”
“‘Seems like you’re never alone,” she said with a shrug.
Dagan frowned. He hated to bring down a conversation, but he had to admit, “That doesn’t mean I never want to be.”
“I just don’t know who you’d be without an audience, I guess.” Mina laughed. “You’d be wasted.”
No, he wouldn’t. When he was in the forest, on the trail, with no audience but the forest gods, no one expected anything of him. And, unlike humans, Dagan didn’t mind what the forest gods thought of him, whether they liked him, whether they wanted him to behave a certain way or do a certain thing. They just were, and he just was, and it was so, so peaceful.
“How can I be wasted on myself?” Dagan asked with a little smile. “I want to serve the conservancy and the Heart Wood, but I also want the chance to feel something like peace. Lifecasting is so much easier out there, away from the distractions of the settlement. It’s such a strong connection, Mina, I could never feel alone.”
Mina nodded thoughtfully. “I hope it brings you all the peace in the world, Dagan.”
“Thank you, darling. That’s touching.” It was also a little bit touching that she didn’t question him further. He’d tensed up a little, waiting for it: You want peace? Never!
He’d built the trap for himself by playing the fun party boy during his wild teenage years. And now he finally had a way of escaping it, it was exasperating, having to explain himself over and over. It was nice to be accepted instead of questioned. Very nice, indeed.
They wandered for a few moments in companionable silence. Then she glanced at him, and he sensed something else. He asked, “Yes?”
“It’s been a while. Since we had a good roll in the blankets.”
Yes, now she mentioned it, it had been a while. He grinned, trying not to preen again. “You are going to miss me, aren’t you?”
“A little. Maybe.” She smiled and glanced at him sideways, then looked down quickly.
That…was not what he’d expected. Perhaps a grin and a hand in his, pulling him deep into the privacy of the grove for a stolen moment. Perhaps an invitation to share a room at the winery tonight to remind her what there was to miss. Maybe even a quick kiss and a wink to tease him, test him, and get him thinking about her now he was home for a week or so. Any of those, he would’ve known how to react to. This, on the other hand, was new. “Are you alright, Mina? Really?”
“Me? Yes, I’m fine!” She smiled and met his gaze again. “Your stories last night just reminded me that you’ll be gone as often as you’ll be here, now. At least as often. And I don’t know that I’ll like it.”
He frowned. Normally, this would be where he’d make a flirtatious joke. Instead, he was honest. “You’ll hardly notice.”
“You know I will,” she said quietly.
Suddenly, he realized his mistake. “Mina…” He stopped walking and pulled his arm out of hers but kept her hand. “What are you trying to say?”
She flushed, her brown skin going dark pink at the cheeks and ears. Beautiful. Tempting, even in other circumstances. “I’m ready. I’m ready to settle down, to start a family of my own. I’ve been ready for over a year, probably, and I’m getting restless. I just thought…” She sighed.
“Oh, sweetheart.” He squeezed her hand, stomach tying itself into knots. “I’m not surprised. You’re a beautiful little creature of garden and home, and you’ll make an excellent parent for a horde of beautiful little babies.”
“But?” she prompted, a little smile tugging at her lips.
“But I won’t. I can barely take care of myself, and I’m about to be handed the massive responsibility that comes with scouting for real and true.” He shook his head. “I’d make an absent parent, at best. You deserve better.”
Her eyes widened, almost pleading. “But I wouldn’t mind.”
She would, though—as most self-respecting partners would. And anyhow, “You don’t love me.”
“I know I could, though.”
Dagan’s instinct was to laugh, but she was being so sincere, and his stomach was so knotted up, that he managed to bite it back. “You’d hate me for being gone. Within a year, you’d find someone better suited to family life, and he’d take my place and raise my baby and you’d resent me forever.”
If he sounded certain, it was because he’d seen it happen. One of his elder brothers, Amory, was in the exact situation with his partner. She wasn’t a scout, but a trader, and he saw her maybe once a moon if he was lucky. It was hellish on them both. So even if it wasn’t common sense, and even if his training hadn’t taught him that family life was hard on a scout, he’d still be hesitant.
Still, he couldn’t deny that the offer had its allure. He wasn’t the only person in the settlement she’d bedded, though her numbers were nowhere near his own. It was nice that one of his many temporary lovers actually considered him “forever” material. He’d wished for it often enough, to be more than just desired. Maybe even to be loved. Cherished. Kept.
“I think we could be happy.” Mina sighed, though, shoulders rounding.
He squeezed her hand, heart aching. What if she doesn’t thank me for this? What if she resents me? What if she never wants to talk to me again? “I’m looking forward to my wandering life. What is it you want, for yours?”
“You’re right,” was all she said by way of answer. “I know you are. I just—we would make a very pretty little family, don’t you think?”
He chuckled, but it felt nervous. Telling people no was not his forte. In fact, he couldn’t remember the last time he’d done it. On the one hand, it was nice to know he could. On the other: What if she stops talking to me? Should I kiss her? Should I flirt to lighten the mood? To make her feel wanted? To make sure she doesn’t walk away and never look back?
No, though. That’d be cruel, even if he wasn’t sure why. It felt wrong, even though it was his first instinct. It was always his first instinct. “I’m not the settling down type. I didn’t realize that you wished I was. I’m sorry.”
“No, please.” Her smile brightened a little. “If you were, you wouldn’t be you. And it’s you I like. You’ve always been a good friend. And a good lay.”
They shared a laugh at that, and it undid a few of Dagan’s stomach-knots.
“I’m a nester, you’re a wanderer,” she added after a moment.
And yet, the promise of being loved, of being permanently kept, tethered to someone who was all his, not shared or sharing was…delicious. But he couldn’t have it both ways. And he hadn’t trained this hard to give it all up for something that wasn’t even love.
That would be madness.
Wouldn’t it?
Chapter 2: Black Walnut Grove Settlement, Heart Wood, Summer, Buck Moon Waxing
For the rest of the week, Dagan stuck to the groves around the family home. Friends might stop by, notes might arrive asking for a visit, offers of drinks and revelry might roll in, but Dagan wasn’t there to accept or refuse any of them. Whichever family member intercepted these kind messages, they all knew to politely say that Dagan was preparing for his first scouting trip and would return for the send-off party.
Was it cowardly of him not to refuse them all in person? Yes, obviously, it was. Was he vaguely terrified that ducking his friends might mean he lost some of them? Oh, without a doubt.
But touring the groves with Nika as they proudly showed off how far their lifecasting had come, visiting his brother Tiber’s little cabin by the waterfall to see the baby, scouring the woods for wild herbs with Korina, then tying them up in bunches over the kitchen hearth, all these things and more, Dagan needed. He needed them for himself, part preparation for a long moon of lonely trekking, part time for reflection.
The morning before the party, Dagan came into the common room to see a familiar head of long, wavy ginger hair at the breakfast table with his family. This was one guest he wasn’t about to duck. He’d never been happier to see them, in fact. “Innan!”
They turned, a small smile already playing across their pale lips. “Oh, you are here, after all.”
“Come here!”
Innan stood and came to him, arms wide, and Dagan met them halfway to wrap them up. They always smelled of strawberries and fresh grass, in spite of spending most of their time deep in a dusty cave.
“I wouldn’t miss your send-off,” Innan said into his ear, voice light with laughter.
Dagan pulled back, holding them at arm’s length to get a good look. Almost as pale as snow, ginger as a carrot, and eyes so green they belonged on a cat, Innan had always been easy on the eyes. “You look so good.”
“Your mother says I look too thin.” Innan chuckled, tugging at Dagan’s braid playfully. “Anyhow, look who’s talking.”
“You are too thin!” Mother said from the table.
“You think everyone’s too thin,” Dagan pointed out, turning them both toward the door. “Come on, Innan, catch me up on everything. It’s been an age.”
“Two ages, at least.”
“Won’t you eat breakfast, Dags?” Mother called, voice high with distress.
Dagan held up a hand. “Iason?”
A fluffy grain-bread roll flew across the room. Dagan snatched it out of the air, then waved with it as he led Innan out the door. Once they were outside, he started toward the groves. “Sorry to rush you out, but I want you all to myself. They’ve already had you this morning. When did you get here?”
Innan chuckled. “Just after sunup. Traveled all night.”
“You must be exhausted.”
Innan shook their head. “Anyhow, I’d rather hear about you. How’d the final tests go?”
Dagan began recounting his achievements just as animatedly as he had for a winery full of friends. They found a large tree to lean against, shoulder-to-shoulder, and planted themselves in the ground to chatter and watch the morning fog burn off. When Dagan had told his tale, he asked Innan, “And you? How’s earthsinging lately?”
“I was about to ask you the same about lifecasting. You left that bit out of the tests,” they replied, plucking a few long strands of grass and comparing the lengths with pale, nimble fingers.
“I’m adequate. I’m no Alonza, though.” He snorted.
“For which we’re all grateful. Earthsinging is lovely. The Council wants me to visit the Wildcrafter settlement next moon to do some work for them,” the said.
“Me too.” Dagan frowned. “Wonder what’s going on?”
Innan shrugged, rubbing their shoulder against Dagan’s. “They’ll let us know when they want to, I suppose.”
“You’re so philosophical about it.” If he didn’t know them, it’d be maddening, Dagan was pretty sure.
“You’ve got more immediate things to think about. Are you ready for your first scouting trip?” Innan grinned, flashing pointed canines that lent their adorable face a certain feral quality.
“I wish I was already on it,” Dagan admitted.
Innan’s brow furrowed. “Did something happen?”
Dagan shook his head. “I’ve just been thinking. Maybe I should make my home in some other conservancy.”
It wouldn’t solve all his problems, exactly. He already had a little bit of a reputation with the scouts as a flirt, though it was nothing compared to his reputation in the Black Walnut settlement. But the idea of starting over somewhere new, where no one would think they knew him…
Innan nodded. “It’s a good idea. So long as you don’t end up doing the same thing you’ve done to yourself here.”
Dagan shot them a wary look. “Which is?”
“Allow people to think they’re entitled to your time and attention constantly.”
“Well, you don’t have to say it like that.” Dagan sighed and let his head fall back against the tree.
“I say it with love. Your mother is worried about you, you know. She says you’ve been hiding since you came home. Won’t see your friends. She thinks you’re depressed.”
Dagan grumbled under his breath, “Yes, well, I’m not.”
“I know that. You know that. But does anyone else?”
“If you’re going to pose probing questions and force me to think about myself seriously, Innan, you can just go back to your cave.” Dagan screwed up his face, hoping for a laugh.
He got one, but it was quiet and came with a shake of the head. “Then who would you tell the truth?”
Dagan rolled his eyes but leaned heavily against their shoulder.
“I’ve said it before, you just need to set some boundaries.” Innan clicked their tongue like a disapproving parent.
Dagan said, “Or I could just move. I hear the Mushroom Conservancy settlement is lovely, and it’s right in the middle of the Wood…”
“Or you could move to the caves and live as a hermit with me.”
“But you can’t have two hermits in the same hidey-hole, or they wouldn’t be hermits,” Dagan reasoned.
“Oh, I’m sure I could find you something deep enough into the mountain that you’d never even know I existed.”
“Sounds dreadful. No thank you, darling.”
Innan laughed again.
In spite of himself, Dagan did too. “Fine, I’m slightly…I’m not depressed, exactly. More just itching to get out onto the path. Into the forest.”
“I think you’ll find great things on that path,” Innan replied sagely. “I think you’ll surprise yourself out there.”
“That’s what I’m hoping,” Dagan admitted. “I just want to be good at something other than talking and fucking. I’m starting to get on my own nerves.”
He hadn’t realized that last bit until he said it aloud. Well, fuck. That wasn’t good, was it?
“You’re good at lots of things,” Innan insisted. “Listening, for one. Most people aren’t. And you’ve never gotten on my nerves once.”
“You’re the dearest, kindest friend anyone’s ever had, you know that?” Dagan slumped down and settled his head against Innan’s thigh, then stretched out in the grass.
“Only to you.” They twirled the end of his braid around their fingers. “To others I’m weird and cold and off-putting, with my caves and my earthsinging.”
This wasn’t strictly true. Though lifecasting was a more common skill among residents of the Heart Wood—everyone could do it to some extent, providing they practiced, earthsinging was rare and deeply valued. While lifecasting extended to feeling, understanding, and interpreting the myriad forms of life in a given patch of the wood or water—or anything, really—earthsinging was more specialized. It was sensing and interpreting, sometimes even affecting, the music of the ground itself. The shifting of layers of stone, clay, and soil; the incremental changes that had birthed the intricate collection of caves beneath the mountain, and the ability to speed or slow them as needed. Metal was rare in the Heart Wood. Without people like Innan, they’d have to live without it or trade even more of their most precious luxuries away to the Stone City’s black market to get more.
“Not at all,” Dagan insisted. “And if anyone ever said as much in my presence—”
“Well, of course they wouldn’t.” Innan chuckled again, tickling Dagan’s nose with the end of his braid.
Dagan swatted at it playfully.
“They’re just as worried about you liking them as you are about them liking you,” Innan went on, letting the braid drop. “And the day you finally see that is the day you’ll really be free. Doesn’t matter where you move to or how many times you start over.”
“Oh, very easily said,” Dagan grumbled. “I’m on my nerves again. Tell me about your father. Have you seen him lately?”
Gracefully, Innan allowed him to change the subject. But Dagan could tell from the sharp little glance they sent his way that the conversation would continue later.
*
“We all know Dagan doesn’t need to be reminded of his accomplishments,” Alonza said, holding up both hands to let everyone know they ought to be listening.
The people gathered in the market square quieted and turned toward him, elbowing each other or whispering in anticipation. Dagan just rolled his eyes. Alonza had shown up a half hour late, of course, and decided the party was only just beginning now that he’d arrived. But he had, at least, brought his charming new partner with him.
Innan, leaning against the table next to Dagan, bumped their shoulder against his. “He doesn’t get many opportunities to grandstand, out there at the Head Verder’s house. Let him have it.”
“Fine, fine.” Dagan laughed.
