Brena
Before dawn, the clanhold of Sycamore Stands was already alive with the sound of women pounding nuts. The sharp smell of acorns came from the leeching ditches between the round clay huts.
Zavaedi Brena made sure her nosy neighbor, Auntie Ula, wasn't following her. Then she led her two daughters, Gwena and Gwenika, past the wooden stockade, down the slope, to a spot hidden among the tall sycamore trees. They came here every morning. Yet every morning, Brena had to fight the same battle to get them moving, as if it were the first time.
Gwena, the older one, spent far too much time combing her hair. On the way to the woods, she turned her head again and again, trying to catch the eyes of the young men burning brush for gardens. A few of them smiled back—until they saw Brena. Then they quickly went back to work.
Gwenika, two years younger, started her whining early that day. "Do I have to practice today?"
"Yes. You have to practice every day."
"But I feel really dizzy this morning."
"Hrmf." Brena still felt the sting of Auntie Ula's scolding from the night before. Ula, who had never been able to have children herself, always had something to say about those who did. "You're too soft on the girls. That's why the little one is so lazy. A good mother wouldn't allow that." Then, in the very next breath, Ula had said, "Why do you push them so hard? It's not right for a mother to pressure her daughters to become Tavaedies. What if they just want to be wives and mothers?"
Brena had wanted to shake her. Well, which is it? Am I too soft, or too hard? She already knew the truth—no matter what she did, she would be judged. Even as a Zavaedi, people didn't think a woman should raise children without a man. But Brena had made her choice long ago. Her husband had left her bitter enough for a lifetime. She had no desire to let another man into her life.
And if her daughters became Tavaedies, they wouldn't need husbands to plow their fields either. After her husband died, what would have happened to her if she hadn't been part of the secret society, able to earn her own place in the clan with her own skills? She had been pregnant, with a baby at her feet already begging for food. She shivered at the memory. It had been hard enough returning to the troop after leaving to raise a family.
She looked around the clearing again to make sure they were alone, then clapped her hands. The girls stopped their dawdling and turned toward her.
"Today, I want to see you go through the Badger and Deer Positions. Both Still and Moving forms."
"Yes, Mama," they said together. A few warblers chirped above them.
"Begin! Deer Leaps—from Still to Moving!"
Gwena did the steps well, leaping again and again with perfect form. Gwenika, on the other hand, dragged her feet and moved her arms like wet cloth. She kicked at the dry leaves, then bent down to pick up one of the spiky sycamore balls on the ground.
"Can we dance somewhere else? These keep poking my feet."
"No," Brena said. "This is the safest place. I don't want anyone spying on us."
"But how can I dance if my feet are getting poked?"
"Gwenika." Every day, a new excuse. Maybe Ula is right. Maybe I've done something wrong with this one.
"My head is spinning again. I feel dizzy."
"I've told you—"
"And I'm tired. My heart is beating too fast."
"Your heart should be beating fast. You're exercising."
"But my face is pale, and my fingers are white. Look!" Gwenika held out her hand. "I think I have Feeble Blood Lack. I heard about it in your Healing stories. Maybe the fae hexed me. Can I sit down?"
Gwena rolled her eyes beside her.
"The fae did not hex you," said Brena. "No one hexed you. You're just not trying. Let's go again. Gwena, good job—point your toes more. Gwenika, that leap looked like a frog. Try to look like a deer. Copy your sister."
"I've been bleeding in unspeakable places for no reason," Gwenika said.
Brena turned sharply and gave her full attention to her younger daughter. For the first time, she noticed Gwenika's changing shape—her chest beginning to rise, her hips starting to widen. No. Not yet. Where did the time go? Just yesterday, you were still my baby.
Half proud, half worried, Gwenika added, "I think the bleeding is causing the Feeble Blood Lack."
"You might be right," Brena said.
"I might?"
"You can sit down and just watch for a while."
"So… the fae did hex me?"
"No." Brena ran a hand through her hair. "It means you, like your sister, have already had your first moonblood. It means I don't have much time left to teach you before the Initiation." She paced, looking up at the trees. "So little time left, and these girls are still not ready!"
Or maybe… I'm the one who isn't ready.
"We're trying our best, Mama," said Gwena.
"But aren't we supposed to wait until Initiation to learn the secret dances?" Gwenika asked.
"Don't let nonsense fall out of your mouth." Brena frowned. If Ula thought she was teaching the actual dances, it could cause real trouble. "I haven't taught you any tama. Only the basic parts—hand signs, foot positions, flips, turns, leaps. You won't pass the Testing without them. And all Tavaedies teach their children these things. That's why the honor stays in the same families."
"It's not forbidden for me to teach you now. You're still children. But after you're initiated, I won't be allowed to help anymore. If you fail the Test, that's it. No second chance. Do you see why this matters so much?"
"Yes, Mama," the girls said together.
"Good." Brena took a deep breath and put her hands on her hips. "Let's begin again. Gwena, feet in position—"
"But Mama!" Gwenika interrupted.
With one toe tapping, Brena said, "Yes, Gwenika?"
"Gramma says the best cure for anemia is eggs. Should I look for bird eggs?"
"Did nothing I said reach you? You have to practice, girl!"
"But you said I'm sick…"
"Are you really going to look for eggs?"
"Of course."
"Not just to go play in the woods?"
"Mama." Gwenika gave her a look of pure innocence.
"Fa! Go, then. Find eggs. Give them to your Gramma. I'm sure she'll be glad to cook them for you." She spoils you anyway. "Your sister will stay and practice. At least one of you will not fail her family's honor. Go!"
Gwenika scrambled off.
But the moment she was gone, doubt crept into Brena's mind. "Stay here," she told Gwena. "Keep doing the Deer Leaps until I get back."
"Yes, Mama."
It didn't take long to find Gwenika. The girl was climbing a leaning sycamore tree. On one thick branch, thirty-five feet up, was a nest. A real one. Brena was surprised. Maybe she really is after eggs.
It was a sycamore warbler's nest, lined with old sycamore balls. When the girls were younger, Brena had taken them into the woods to teach them names of birds and trees. Her own mother had done the same.
Gwenika didn't notice her. She reached the nest—but not to take anything. She was putting something back.
Eeeep.
Brena heard the tiny cry.
"There you are, little lost one," Gwenika said softly. "Back home now."
The eggs had already hatched. One chick must have fallen. Gwenika had helped it back into the nest.
Brena shook her head. She'll learn. The world punishes kindness. Feed a wolf, and it bites off your hand. Still, she turned away without saying a word. She didn't have the heart to scold her for saving a baby bird.
Then Gwenika screamed.
Brena ran back.
An enormous, shaggy blond bear, wounded by an arrow and limping on one paw, had burst through the brush. It now stood between Brena and her daughter.