The Ancients A Tale of Survival

Do You Trust Us?

"Mom, we need to talk."

Mỷrἇ looked up to see Dárkmëre standing in the doorway. A smile spread across her face as she motioned her eldest to join her. Dárkmëre stepped forward and pushing his sleeves as he stepped up beside Mỷrἇ and started helping her sort through the seeds she was working with. They worked in silence for many minutes before Dárkmëre finally spoke.

"Âkįŀ, Äçåçiå, and I went to speak to some of the natives yesterday."

Mỷrἇ nodded as she sorted seeds. "I know. Your father, uncle, and I saw you three disappear into the forest yesterday."

Dárkmëre stared at her in surprise. "You knew and yet you didn't come and confront me."

Mỷrἇ shook her head as she offered her son a smile. "Why would I? I knew that you would come to me when you are ready. I trust you. I trust all of you."

"I'm glad you trust us. Are you mad at us?"

A chuckle escaped Mỷrἇ. "You will always raise my anger. You are my child, but I have learned to be very patient with you."

"Did I make the right choice Mom?"

Several seconds passed as Mỷrἇ thought through her answer. "You made the best choice with the information presented to you. You made sure that your siblings were safe and that is the most important thing to do."

"What do Dad and Uncle think?"

"They are in agreement with your choices. We must do things that we don't like in order to save the things and people that we love."

Dárkmëre was quiet as he helped Mỷrἇ prepare the seeds for harvest. "Do you, Dad, and Uncle want to meet the natives that we have spoken to?"

"Yes."

Dárkmëre gave a satisfied nod. "I will talk to Âkįŀ and see when we can bring them to you."

"Make it soon my son. There's a shift in the magical field. I do not like it. The sooner we figure out our next move the better."