Page 29 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
“It is a big tree,” he pointed out.
The stranger balanced easily on their shared limb. “You likebig trees?”
Kyrie nodded. “Especially this one.”
“And why would that be?”
Inhaling deeply, he sighed his contentment. “Feels good.”
The stranger glanced around, looking unconvinced. “So yousay.”
“You cannot feel it?” Kyrie asked.
“No.” Peering around at the eager Ephemera, he quietlyconfessed, “I never could understand the appeal.”
“Too bad. This tree islovely.”
That earned him a smile. “And you love it?”
Kyrie hardly needed to consider. He shyly admitted, “I thinkI do.”
“Will you steal these flowers and bottle their pollen?”
“I would rather come visit every chance I get.”
The stranger hummed approvingly. “Sensible boy.”
Slouching a little further into his seat, Kyrie mumbled,“Feels good.”
“It will not feel good if you topple.”
Kyrie turned his head to check how high he was, but lookingdown tilted him sideways.
“Ope, ope, ope. None of that!” The stranger made a grab.“Messy business, cleaning up fallen boys.”
All of the sudden, Kyrie realized that he was being cradledlike a child, which wasn’t such a great shock. Hewasa child. But notso little that he wanted to be babied. He would have said so, but he wasdistracted by his rescuer’s hair, which was sprouting leaves of the greenestgreen, as vivid as the ones that surrounded them. His smile was nice, and hisscent was lovely.
That’s when Kyrie made a vast leap of logic. “Are you atree?”
“I amthistree.”
Struggling up, Kyrie brushed his lips against the undersideof the tree-person’s jaw, just the way Dad had taught him. It took quite aneffort. Sagging back in limp delight, he said, “You are myfavoritetree.”
“Do you love me?”
Such a lovely tree. “I think I do.”
The tree tapped his nose. “You are adorable.”
A voice called out somewhere below.
“Come, and I will introduce you to my brother. Since you willbe visiting me every chance you get, he will want to meet you.” His eyebrowslifted slightly. “What name should I give when I introduce you?”
“I am Kyrie.”
The tree caressed his hair. “What a beautiful name.”
“My name is a prayer for mercy,” he explained. Because anAmaranthine usually wanted to know.
