The Chronicle of the Worthy Son

Unseen

Everything was black.

The young moon was already setting by the time Miller had gotten Able to the place in the wall someone could climb over. That is, if they were reasonably fit and unburdened, and Able was neither. How this scrawny woman had managed to push him up to the gap was as beyond his reckoning as her apparent ability to lead the way blind.

He'd found a stick to wave back and forth to alert him to any irregularities in the ground. But he had to be careful to keep the noise of it down so as not to overpower the rustle of Miller's feet in the leaves ahead. She had already called to him that he was falling behind or going the wrong way several times.

He could not make out her form. Every now and then, his mind would conjure her silhouette before him, but he could not actually see anything. It also conjured other things. Every snap or rustle in the distance brought him tighter into himself, and he imagined wolves where he tried to convince himself of squirrels or rabbits.

A particularly large crunch brought him to a standstill. He was left suspended in the following silence. The air had been calm all night, and now it was eerily still and cold. His pulse seemed loud in his ears as he turned his head. As if that would help him search this sightless world for something large.

A bear. The Bear. Something in the darkness that was so vast and so close that there was no space for anything that resembled the idea of Able Houser. The weakness of his humanity thought to beg it, whatever this was, I'll do anything, whatever you want, just bring the light back.

Something touched his face. He shot nearly right out of his boots, only just managing to remain upright. The something bounced off his flailing arm and settled gently on the ground with its fellow leaves. A leaf. Only a leaf. He rubbed his face vigorously.

"You all right?" The urgent whisper was as good as a star to follow. Leaves slid under his hurried steps as he chased it. Fortunately, a hand to his chest stopped him before he collided with Miller.

"Yes," he replied then swallowed. "Just startled."

The only reply was the shuffle of her boots.

An age passed this way. Then the world began to grow gray, Miller's silhouette became real, and the trees resumed their silent watches overhead. They were following a road, a fact masked in the night by the leaves that trailed forlornly along its way. Even as color returned to the sky, these leaves were left in mottled brown and yellow. The leaves above were no better off.

Able quickened two steps to walk beside Miller. "Why are the leaves falling?" he whispered. "Are these trees diseased?"

"The leaves don't fall in your land?" She looked genuinely surprised.

"Ah...well, for some trees, during the dry season, they turn brown and fall off, but it's been raining."

"They're going to sleep," she said plainly.

"They?"

"The trees," she clarified with a wave of her hand over her head. "They're going to hibernate through the winter. When the days grow shorter, anything with a broad leaf drops its leaves and draws its waters down into its roots. And they sleep." This did not sound like she meant to be metaphorical.

"So...the winter gets too cold for even the trees?"

"No?" She chuckled, clearly finding the question bizarre. "They'll wake up again in the thaw." This sounded rather like a yes.

Able shook his befuddled head until he had another thought. "Is that the logging secret? You cut the trees while they're inactive?"

"I never thought it a secret." Miller shrugged. "We told the Dags and then the Banders that cutting when the sap is running can spread disease and when the ground is not frozen can cause mudslides—especially if you're going to clear even the trees that are no use as lumber. We all pay the price for their impatience."