Page 65 of Tomb of Ancients
“Mother says I must never take things from strangers,” the girl replied. “And you seem awfully strange.”
“Strange, yes, but also harmless.” I ate the chocolate myself, noticing the flash of envy in her eyes. “Do you have a name, little sprite?”
“Dahlia.”
I nodded and finished the chocolate, wiping off my hands on already-stained trousers. “You know, Dahlia, you must be careful who you give your name to, for names have power.”
Her eyes, already so large, grew bigger. “My mother says that, also. What’s your name?”
“Henry,” I said, then pointed to the wooded plateau to the east, miles and miles away. “Do you live there, by any chance?”
“Near.” Ah, a smart child. She took a few steps forward,putting her hands into two big pockets on her floral-patterned shirt. She wore wide trousers and round, brown shoes. I watched her take a spoon from her pocket and hold it at her side.
“I see,” I said, nodding toward her hand. “And what is that spoon for?”
“Nothing,” the girl replied. “I just like to have it.”
“I’ll bet it keeps you safe. But don’t you worry, I won’t harm you.” I would never harm you. “Won’t you keep an old man company? We might walk together, for I am bound for that hill, too.”
“Really? Have you come to visit?”
Her innocent, high voice pierced my heart, and I hefted the pack, sliding it onto my shoulders before starting toward her through the grass. Another plane whirred overhead, low, and she dropped into the hedge with practiced skill. I knelt and parted the branches, offering a kind smile.
“I hate them, too. They make my ears ring.”
Her nose wrinkled as if she could sniff out my intentions. Perhaps she could. Dahlia climbed out of the brush and dusted herself off, then reached for my hand, tugging me along the path of wildflowers and stones.
“You will get lost without help,” she said. “The woods are very twisty. How do you know to visit? Nobody is allowed.”
“I think I know your mother.” I grinned. “You have her hair and her eyes, though the color is all wrong.”
“Everyone says I have my father’s eyes,” Dahlia informed me.“Do you know him, too?”
“Perhaps. And what do you think of the moon, fair one?”
She put the spoon back in her pocket and toddled along more confidently. “I like it. I like it very much. But why are you here? Nobody is allowed, so it must be very important.”
We broke away from the lake, heading directly into dense, hilly country. The mist grew thicker, rising until only Dahlia’s head poked above it. A tiny blossom fell out of her hair, but I caught it and tucked it away.
“I need your mother’s help. The world has gotten ugly and dark, people are hurting each other.”
“Father says it’s because humans are awful and don’t know how to behave,” Dahlia told me. She wasn’t wrong, but I had to chuckle. A child’s view was simple, full of conviction, and I had no evidence to contradict her. She had also, apparently, divined that I was not human and therefore worthy of trust.
“He isn’t wrong, but that’s why I need help. We must...” How to explain war to a child? How to explain the unfettered crisis tearing the world to pieces? I sighed and moved a branch out of the way. “We must help them remember how to be good. Your folk were always full of goodness and light, and if we do nothing, all those human problems will find you, too.”
“Nobody finds us,” she declared.
“They can,” I said. “They will. But we can help them. Your mother can help them. I know she wanted to go away, to protect you all, but now she’s needed again. When something terriblehappens you must do something, Dahlia, you must never do nothing. I did nothing once, and I regret it every day of my life.”
She considered that for a moment, a bullfrog taking its time to move out of the way as we tromped through the forest. Normally I would have taken pains to be more discreet, but then, I had a guide.
“Mother is quite stubborn, but you may try.”
Yes, I thought, she was the most stubborn person I had ever known. It seemed impossible that we should meet again, and yet, the paths of the gods had a way of crossing. I was only ever made to bring darkness to the world. Now more than ever, we needed light.
“Then I will try. You know, it is important, Dahlia, that we try. Tell me something, dear,” I said, helping her across a narrow, trickling brook. “Do you fancy birds?”
The End
