Page 42 of Mikoto and the Reaver Village
“Because you want me to tend you?” he guessed.
Eyes averted, the squirrel said, “Just … check. I want acheckup.”
“To see if you’re Broken?” Tenma shook his head. “You’renot.”
All of the sudden, Salali was much closer, practically noseto nose. “Squirrels are greedy. I watched my clan shatter, so I abstain. ButI’ve never stopped wanting another taste. I can be very … greedy.”
This was a new one. Then again, every person’s circumstancehad been a little different from everyone else’s. “You want me to tend youbecause you think I can’t break you.”
“The theory is sound.”
“Understood. No problem. I’m pretty sure it’s impossible forme to overwhelm you. You’ll see.” Tenma gently repeated, “Try me.”
Salali sat across from Tenma, dragged the hat from his head,and rumpled his gray hair while studying him. The haunted, hungry gaze mighthave been frightening if Tenma hadn’t spent the last few years coaxing peoplelike Salali into a connection that would do them both good.
He began, and Salali’s sharp intake began to worry Tenma. Ittook longer than usual for him to gasp for air. And mere moments for him to swayforward.
Different clans approached tending with a startling range ofopinions. Some considered this a holy rite. Others took it medicinally. Tenmahad met misers with jealously guarded cossets, and he’d spent time with reaverswho spent all day, every day doling out little portions of their soul like achain restaurant with a drive-thru window.
Tenma had begun to suspect that his only purpose as a reaverwas this intimate give and take. “Do you think generosity is a job?”
Salali cleared his throat. “A time-honored one. Do you knowwhy a cosset’s tunic is yellow?”
For someone who saw a soul in terms of color, Tenma hadnever given much thought to the colors worn by the various reaverclassifications. “Why yellow?”
Words softly slurring, he said, “Intoxicating as pollen,sweet as honey, gentle as sunbeams.”
Tenma accepted that as a compliment. “You know, when theyfound out about me, I was barely anything but a spark. Some of my friends stillcall melittle glimmer.”
“You’ve gained.”
“Yeah. There’s a reason for that. Try tending me.”
Salali favored him with a baffled look.
“I know, I know. It sounds backward.” Tenma admitted, “It’s sortof a secret, but you wanted mine. This one’s especially nice.”
Working out how to do what was needed took a few moments.Success tugged a soft whine from Salali, who toppled into Tenma’s waiting arms.
“That’s the way,” he murmured encouragingly.
They hadn’t really settled on official terms for this thingTenma—and maybe one day, his line—could do. It had been described in terms ofechoes and bouncing, of reverberation and even feedback. Those who weregenerous with him found themselves repaid tenfold. At least. And because Tenmawas only returning what was given, his Amaranthine partner gained something compatible.Maybe even essential.
If tending was candy, Tenma was mother’s milk.
“Don’t stop,” whispered Salali.
“I won’t.”
Taking a deep, shuddering breath, he again begged, “Don’tstop.”
“I haven’t stopped.”
“More?”
Tenma promised, “All you need.”
Somewhere along the way, Salali began sniffling, and Tenmabundled him close. The squirrel softly demanded, “Not a word to anyone.Especially not Gent. Or Glint.”
