Chapter 2

The stranger’s hands found their way to Kea. She blocked. A warm whisper in her ear informed her she would consent, or he would kill her and use the daughter for relief. She didn’t protest further. He turned her on her side, and spoon fucked her. She told her daughter to close her eyes and sleep, it would be a long day. A little later, the man climbed on top of her. She made sure his hands stayed on her, not her daughter. She accepted the assault without noise. She suffered the pain of unwelcomed entry with silent tears. She tolerated three more attacks before night came. One of those attacks came even as the wagon was stopped at a militia check point. There was enough light speckled into their artificial cave she could see his eyes and his stupid smile. A pinprick of light became a beam due to eyes filled with tears. She wanted to scream out and let that be the end of him. It would likely result in her death, her daughter’s death, but maybe they would believe she was being kidnapped- the man would die, the driver would die, she would be returned to a life she no longer wanted… She gave the robber nothing. No smile, no sympathetic motion, not even evidence of being present. He simply gratified himself with a corpse. He departed the wagon while in motion. She was relieved he was gone until she realized he had also taken her bag, what was left of her coin, and the mint and display case. She did not sleep. The wagon came to a halt and the signal wrap was given. She emerged from the wagon, her daughter in tow. Her daughter still had her bag. There was lavender petals in her hair. Kea helped her down.

“There was a man,” the merchant said.

“He departed before signaled,” Kea said.

The merchant cursed and looked about himself. “How long ago?”

Kea didn’t answer.

The merchant grabbed her arm. “How long ago?”

“I don’t know!” she said.

“Fuck! Why didn’t you say something?”

“I was told to be silent,” Kea said.

The merchant secured the tarp and headed back to the front. There was enough moon light to see the edges of the road. It helped that glowworms also sparked the trees along the road.

“Wait. Please. He robbed me,” Kea said.

“Welcome to the real world, princess,” the merchant said.

“Wait. What?” She followed him to the front.

“You had a plan, stick to the plan,” the merchant said. He took out a pack and handed it to her. “Compliments of the Captain. There’s food enough in the wild if you’re smart about it. I’d stay off this road, though, if I were you.”

निर्मित

Rumors of walking bears had wanted to keep her on the road. She and Tay went south. The moon was full. Tay asked questions. Would they be home soon? No. Complaint: I want to sleep in my bed. We’re not ever going to that home again. Silence. “So, who will sleep in my bed?”

Kea stopped walking. She went to her knees first, then prostrate, and cried into the grass.

Tay touched her shoulder. “Don’t cry, K’Ma. We’ll be alright.”

Kea forced herself up. She undid her daughters pack and rolled out a blanket. She and Tay lay on it; mostly Tay. They lay close and looked up at the stars and the moon.

“Tell me about the beginning,” Tay asked.

“In the beginning, there were no stars. There was no moon. And the first people knew how to see in the dark. They could see with their hearts,” Kea said. “There were no lies, because the heart knows all. There was no theft, because the heart has everything. People lived in a state of bliss before the fall.”

“If everything was perfect, why did we fall?”

Kea didn’t have an answer.

“Will we ever be right again? With the gods and each other?”

“Some say there must be a total of seven falls before we accept the rightness of the recommended path,” Kea said. The words in her head were scripture; ‘Every fall is a step up if taken.’

“Recommended is a funny word,” Tay said.

“You’re a funny child,” Kea said.

“Think about it. Recommended means choice. If we called it the true path or the right path, people might be more inclined to walk correctly,” Kea said.

“The Sisters teach free will. Some people learn vicariously. Some people are blessed with just a knowing. Some of us, myself included, are stubborn and stupid and must learn through doing,” Kea said. “When we have learned what we need to learn, there will be consensus, and once more there will be blissful communion of heart.”

“What if there are people that don’t want to learn?” Tay asked.

“Then we don’t advance,” Kea said.

“What if one person doesn’t want to learn?” Tay asked.

“Then we don’t advance,” Kea said.

“That’s not fair,” Tay said.

“We rise together, we fall together. We are on the boat together,” Kea said.

“But,” Tay began.

“Enough. Sleep.”

“I would sleep better in my bed,” Tay said.

Tay pointed at a moving light in the sky. It was the third brightest object in the sky, tracking sun, moon, and this. “Look, it’s the Emissary.” Emissary was small, fast moving moon that tracked across the sky and would be gone soon going from west to east. It would orbit three times in a day. “She’s really bright tonight.”

Kea made a prayer for their wellbeing and asked the Emissary to deliver it, if it was so convenient.

“Did we do something wrong?” Tay asked.

“No, we have done nothing wrong.”

“Then why was there a fall?” Tay asked again.

Kea realized she had misunderstood the question and in light of this tangent she began answering before she knew the better of it. “Falls are inevitable. Change is inevitable,” Kea heard herself saying. She decided to make the best of it and didn’t retract. “We simply get up and continue to do the best we can.”

“I hope the girl who gets my bed is nice.”

“Or boy. Maybe it will be a boy.”

“Boys are mean.”

“They are different.”

“I don’t like them.”

Kea didn’t say anything.

“Do you like them?”

“If you’re lucky, you will know some boys who become men.”

“Do you like men?”

“I have liked a few.”

“Do you love men?”

“I have loved fewer than I liked,” Kea said.

“The Sisters say we are to love everyone.”

“Yeah,” Kea said. “Sleep.”

Tay screamed, going to her feet in nothing flat. Kea was up, checking her. A frog stood prominent on the blanket, moonlight on the blanket, dark frog shape in the center. Eye whites reflected moon.

“I want to go home now!” Tay said.

“It’s a frog. It’s a good omen. It will protect us from bugs.”

“I want my own bed.”

The frog was moved off the blanket and Tay was made to lay down. They eventually slept; staggered. Kea woke every time her daughter shifted, spied the world through weary eyes. In her sleepy haze, the glow worms blended in so well with the starry night she thought the trees had vanished.