I awoke the same way, between one breath and the next, feeling alert and rested. For several long moments, I lay there, taking simple pleasure in the comfort of my bed and the cool gray light of dawn that found its way through my loosely closed shutters. No list of daily tasks pressed upon me. All the things that usually weighted my soul, that I was fat, alone, without prospects, that I had left my sister in terrible circumstances, uncertain of my survival, that my life was as completely different from how I imagined it would as it could possibly be—in short, all of the things that always flavored my mornings with defeat and despair were absent.

I sat up, swinging my bare feet to the wooden floor. And then those things did come to me, but they came without teeth. So my life was different from what I’d planned. Or, I thought to myself, more accurately, what my father had planned for me. It was still a life. Even the thought that Yaril believed me dead did not rend me as it usually did. I might as well be dead to her, I thought, for I could not, in good conscience, ever bring her to a place like Gettys. My father would attempt to oppress her, but from her letters to Epiny, I had the feeling that she would stand up to him if she finally believed that she had no other choice. Perhaps she could now begin to govern her own life without hoping for rescue from someone else.

As for myself, I could now rise as I was, unencumbered by clothing or shackles of any kind, and walk away from this ridiculous life of regulations and expectations. I could go to the forest and live in freedom, learning to serve my magic and my people.

I stood up to leave.

And my real life engulfed me like a wave washing over me. The dread, the sadness, and the frustration rose like walls around me, cutting me off from the peace and optimism that I’d briefly enjoyed. I struggled against it. Was the bleakness that now enveloped me the miasma of magic that Epiny had claimed to sense, or was the bright beckoning dream an illusion that could not withstand the light of day? For a moment, I teetered on a fence between the two realities, almost as if I could choose which world I would step into. Almost.

Habit made me stoop and pick up my worn trousers from the floor. I put my familiar life on with them. I grunted as I stepped into them, and cursed myself for being greedy when they proved hard to fasten. By the time I had dressed myself, brewed my morning tea, and decided to punish myself by going without breakfast, I heard the sounds of Ebrooks and Kesey arriving. They would soon be at my door, expecting to be invited in. I couldn’t face them. They were too sharp a contrast with the world I’d briefly visited and too much an affirmation of the world I now felt trapped in. I seized my jacket from its hook and hurried out of the door. By the time they arrived, I had strapped a selection of tools onto Clove and was leading him toward the forest.

“Where you going?” Ebrooks called after me. I could hear the disappointment in his voice. A hot cup of tea or coffee together before starting the day’s work had just begun to be a habit among us.

“Forest!” I called back to them. “I’m going to start my fence today.”

“Ya, sure you are!” Kesey mocked me. “We’ll see you back before noon.”

I made no reply. I half-suspected he was right. The forest exuded a dark mix of terror and discouragement today. I steeled myself to it, and led Clove into it.

We toiled up the wooded hillside through the young forest. Immediately the sensation of being watched by hostile eyes flooded me. I took a deep breath and tried to focus my mind on what I needed. I wanted a stout, straight tree to cut into lengths for a corner post and my first few fenceposts. I resolved that I’d set the uprights first, and then use smaller poles for the rails.

The deeper I went into the woods, the more futile my task seemed. It would take me ages to cut enough wood to fence even one side of the cemetery. The trees here were all softwood. My posts would rot through in no time at all. Why had I volunteered for such a senseless task? And none of the trees seemed suitable. This one was too skinny, that one too thick, this one forked, that one bent. In despair, I finally chose one at random, telling myself that once it was cut down and limbed, Clove would drag it out of the woods for me and I’d at least be away from the darkest part of the woods’ magic.

I unpacked my ax from Clove and selected where I would begin my cut. I lifted my ax to begin my swing.

“What are you doing?”

The voice didn’t startle me. I turned to look at the same Speck I’d seen the day before.

“I’m cutting this tree down. I’m going to build a fence around the cemetery, so that our dead can rest in peace.”

“Fence.” His tongue twisted the foreign word painfully.

“Pieces of trees all in a line. With limbs blocking the path. Other plants and bushes will grow along it.” I searched the Speck language for words that would approximate what I was doing. I had no qualms at all about letting them know I was setting a boundary.

He frowned at me, slowly taking the meaning from my words. Then a great smile dawned on his face. “You will put trees for your dead? Trees will grow on the hill that was made bare.” I heard him draw in a great breath before he exclaimed, “This is an excellent idea, Great One! It would take one such as you to see this resolution that could be made.”

“I’m glad you approve,” I said. I wondered if he could sense the sarcasm behind my words. I readied my ax again.

“But that is not the right kind of tree to take, Great One.” His tone made it clear that he was very reluctant to point out my error.

I lowered my ax again. “What sort of tree do you think I should use, then?” I asked with cautious curiosity. I’d heard rumors that the Specks were very territorial of certain groves of trees. Perhaps the tree I’d chosen was precious to him. I was willing to take a different tree. I was going to have to cut a lot of trees before I had a fence. There was no sense in antagonizing the man any more than I must. Besides, that was Colonel Haren’s order.

He turned his head at a slight angle and almost smiled. “You know! These trees will not bring the dead peace or hold them properly.”

We were talking past one another again. I tried to find a clear question for him. “What trees should I use then?”

Again, he cocked his head at me. It was hard to read his expression. Perhaps it was only the colors that interrupted his face that made him look quizzical. “You know this. Only kaembra trees will enfold the dead.”

“Guide me to the kaembra trees that I may take,” I suggested to him.

“Guide you? Oh, Great One, I should not so presume. But I will accompany you.”

He was as good as his word. I soon realized that in his presence, the power of the forest to sway my mood waned. I did not know if he distracted me from it, or if his presence neutralized the evil magic of the place. In either case, it was a great relief to me. Despite his words, he did take the lead. I followed him, with Clove lumbering along behind me, his heavy tread nearly silent in the deep turf of the forest. “Why do you call me Great One?” I asked when the silence had stretched too long.

He looked back at me over his shoulder. “You are filled with the magic. Today you shine with it. You are a Great One, and so I address you.”

I glanced down at the swell of my belly and experimented with the notion that I was not fat, but instead was filled with a power I did not completely understand. What if my size were not a weakness, not an indicator of lack of self-control or sloth, but a sign of strength? This Speck, at least, seemed to regard me with respect and treat me with deference. I shook my head. His reverence for me only made me uncomfortable, for I felt I deceived him. We walked on, going ever uphill. Clove’s big hooves scored the forest floor; even if my guide abandoned me, I’d easily track my way back. Birds sang and darted overhead. A short distance away, a rabbit thumped an abrupt warning and then fled. My perception of the forest shifted; it was a pleasantly mild spring day. The young forest around me was leafy and sunlit and smelled wonderful. A sense of well-being smoothed away all my anxiety. I relaxed my shoulders even though I resolved to maintain my wariness. I became aware of the silence and said awkwardly, “My name is Nevare.”