It startled Itxaro to not wake to crying ringing out through the night. She thought perhaps the baby could have died. He was unusually quiet for a newborn. The silence disturbed her mother as well, being there with her in their shared room, fully aware of how little noise there was.

Babies slept a lot when they were first born but still cried sporadically when hungry, lonely, or discomforted. It would all accumulate to an hour or two of noise. As they grew bigger, they cried even more in a matter of weeks.

Fortunately, he still gave the more subtle cues that he was hungry, opening his mouth, reaching out with his hands, nuzzling her chest. He most certainly cried when he needed to be cleaned. Itxaro wondered if he would raise his voice if she failed to feed him after his initial hints were ignored.

Her morning routine began long before the sun rose. She snuck away from the child to prepare her own breakfast while he still slept, circumventing Alvah’s still form in the common room. She waited for the baby to rouse for his next meal and took him into her arms.

Itxaro had a baby sling that went over one shoulder and held the child against her chest but avoided the device most of the time. She experienced no such tragedy but her mother warned her it was a hazard for children that were too young and this baby was even smaller than most. Instead she swabbed him tightly in a blanket and crooked him in her arm.

By then, everyone in the household was moving about. Her mother and grandmother sat together in the common room, their guests nowhere to be seen.

“Would you like some tea, Itxaro?” Lady Itxaro greeted. “You appear to need some.”

“I would love some,” the youngest answered.

“Yesterday was stressful but you did well,” her mother comforted before going to the back room to heat the water.

The baby’s eyes seemed to follow Lady Itxaro. Something that should have been impossible.

The elder apparently noticed. “Your mother is right, that child is abnormal.”

A newborn’s eyesight should have been incredibly short and narrow.

“It is my fault for resorting to a foreign magic rather than the skills you taught me,” Itxaro concluded guiltily.

“I would have done the same. You completed your task as you should have.”

Lady Itxaro returned and the three conversed as they conversed of the happenings within the village. So far, Alvah and Desdomena did little to interrupt the regular flow of life so matters were proceeding fine even with Itxaro distracted from her work.

“Where is Alvah anyway?” Itxaro inquired.

“He is outside with that monster of his,” Lady Itxaro answered.

The elder looked at the door as if measuring the distance he was away from them. “Placing a limit on what he is allowed to say makes interacting with him more difficult,” she said at a slightly hushed tone. “It is good that my granddaughter learned what she already did.”

“Do you not think he would be more suspicious of us if we let him do as he pleased?” Itxaro’s mother replied at a similar volume. “At least now he thinks what hostility we might show is due to the mishap with the child. Do you think those outsiders are respectful enough of our customs to stick to such a promise? I would think they would loosen their tongues out of spite.”

The elder smiled. “You are right. That is actually the better choice. I raised you well.”

“But-“ Itxaro began before stopping herself. She wanted to say “But he would not break his word,” but he already outright lied to them about Desdomena being a familiar.

“But what?” her mother gently prodded.

“But he might listen to you,” Itxaro changed her thought.

“We will find out,” the elder decided. “Even if he has no more to say, as long as he stays here. A use will be found for him.”

“Is that the value of a human?” Itxaro found herself quoting him. “How useful they are?”

“Yes it is,” her grandmother answered kindly. “What matters is what is best for the group. Whether someone helps or hinders the whole decides one’s value.”

Itxaro gritted her teeth because she agreed but when asked that same question earlier, she failed to say as much.

*****

“You need to clean the chamber so we do not have those two staying here another night,” Lady Itxaro reminded her offspring as she prepared to step out.

“I will,” Itxaro promised.

“He is excited to be able to move. Keep watch of the outsiders and be sure they do not wander. The baby’s health takes priority after that,” the elder eased the pressure. “We must think ahead. They can stay here tonight if they must. It would be inconvenient though.”

Itxaro gathered the supplies and crooked the child in her free arm. With some effort, she unlatched the door and pushed it open with her foot.

“Good morning,” Alvah greeted her as she stepped outside. He was looking down as he sat carving something into his cast, his back against the wall.

Itxaro examined the basic ovalan outline that would eventually become the conifer glyph she had become familiar with in the last few days.

“You are preparing a spell for yourself?” she observed.

He did not look up, engrossed in his work. “You proved that my glyph worked. This should be sufficient to speed my recovery.”

“Are you that eager to walk or to leave?” Itxaro inquired.

“I think I would rather not stay longer than I have to,” he informed her as he raised his head to show a sad awkward grin.

“And you will continue on your journey?”

“Yes.”

“You intend to cross mountains during the winter?”

He put away his tools, leaving his work half finished and examined his surroundings. “I do. Yet another reason for me to be on my way but I am starting to wonder if I have more time than I thought. What time of the year is it?” he asked, a little confused.

Desdomena emerged from his eye and her head floated over his shoulder. “I thought it was the middle of fall but I have not noticed any leaves losing their color. Though there were those strange silver trees as we entered.”

“The sun sets as if winter is coming,” Alvah observed.

“You are correct,” Itxaro informed them. “It is the middle of fall.”

“I would not think it,” Alvah admitted.

“The leaves on the trees do not fall off completely here even in winter. In autumn, some of the trees' leaves turn silver. Most of the shrubs in the shadows of those trees still prepare for winter though,” Itxaro explained.

Plants were surprisingly competitive, even with each other, or perhaps especially with each other. Trees would starve shrubs of sunlight. Some of the shrubs were adapting though.

“That is strange but not unbelievable. The tall trees somehow still get enough sunlight but those beneath have to contend with diminishing exposure to the light.”

“It barely snows,” Itxaro added. “Even when it comes here, it is quick to melt. Seems as though the forest keeps the place warm or at least warm enough to prevent freezing. Maybe you should stay here until spring.”

“I appreciate the invitation,” Alvah informed her. “What hazards we might encounter depend on our pace. If I am correct, the land will begin to split in two east from here. I am thinking if I journey straight to the east, I will find myself on the northern side of the divide. Once I am past those deadlands I was told about, I can start to veer to the southeast and meet the ocean where it divides everything. Hopefully there will be some wooded area for us to make a ship. Then we could hopefully sail through the winter.”

“And if you do not find a wooded area there or arrive too late and winter already reached you?” Itxaro challenged. “Or maybe you did not build your fast enough.”

“The last part is most likely,” Desdomena laughed. “He has seen all kinds of ships even sailed a few but never built one for himself.”

“If we are not so fortunate, we can either brave the mountains until we reach your former homeland or head south where we would at least be more comfortable.”

Itxaro wanted to smile at his optimism. He did not want to stay still, that was certain.

Alvah looked at the child in her arms. “I am surprised he did not wake us. Are all children here so well behaved?”

“I wish they were.”

Suddenly, he asked something peculiar. “When will you return him to his mother?”

“Pardon?” Itxaro apologized, not understanding the question.

“Has that child even seen his mother since last night when he was so eager to leave her womb?” Desdomena questioned further.

What they were asking was strange. Itxaro’s mind blanked as she tried to comprehend why they cared about such a detail.

“Is there something wrong?” Alvah worried.

“Why?” Itxaro began slowly. “Why do you ask?”

“Because…” Desdomena started, at least appearing to be confused, even gesturing in the empty air as she tried to find words. Maybe she was making a statement but it sounded more like a question. “That is where children normally go.”

Itxaro sighed in relief. It was some difference in custom rather than suspicion. “Children here belong to the community,” she explained after she took a breath.

“Yet you seem particularly close to your own family over everyone else unless I am mistaken,” Alvah noted. “You live with your own mother.”

“My mother raises everyone once they get to a certain age,” she reasoned. “As the her daughter, I guess I am the exception if you think of it that way. I do live with my own mother.”

“So, you alone live with your own family. Where do the other youngsters live?” Desdomena asked.

“They stay with the expecting mothers when they are old enough and perform tasks for them.”

“How nice for you,” Desdomena hissed.

“Is there something strange?” Itxaro inquired. “I am the midwife and the others are performing tasks. Are we not doing enough?”

She paused. She remembered that Alvah said he was not as accomplished as she was at her age but he had been a noble.

“I understand now,” Desdomena stated, not providing any other response.

Alvah gestured to draw attention to himself. “You do enough,” he reassured her. “We know about communities that raise their children but from our interactions with you, we thought you might have come from a tradition like my own where you would be under the exclusive care of your immediate family. Our children tend to inherit the trade of the family like you do for your grandmother so we were confused.”

“Is there something wrong with what we do?” she asked defensively.

“No. There are imperfections in what you described but flaws are the norm to all societies. Children caring for the adults that care for them. I would think that could be part of an ideal society, maybe not.”

“Humans can not make anything ideal,” Desdomena commented.

“They made you,” Alvah retorted.

The aberration brushed her hand over his face. “Flattery, now?” She drew close abd they locked eyes. “That would have come as a shock if we were still apart but I already know all you think of me.”

They slipped into their own world, forgetting that Itxaro was there. It was uncomfortable, their very ignorance of everything seemed to have a weight that pushed all else away. Some twisted curiosity made Itxaro linger for a moment as she wondered if this was how outsiders courted each other or if this was something unique to the bond of an aberration and human. She could not imagine the adults of the village acting that way, at least not in public.

They exchanged weirdly phrased compliments as if trying to describe to the other what they truly were. As Alvah mentioned the better parts of Desdomena, Itxaro imagined a poet reciting a poem to the sun, telling it that it was cold or a glacier that it was warm.

She let them be as she returned to the birthing chamber. A few seconds after she stepped inside, the baby, which had remained quiet even in the face of Desdomena, began to cry.

Itxaro sniffed the air and noticed no odor other than the lingering incense and dried blood on the floor. “Are you hungry?” she asked to no response besides crying.

She accepted that as at least a maybe and walked back to her home, interrupting the aberration and human pair as she passed them. There was some satisfaction found in ending that nauseating scene. He fussed and pushed away at his false milk. The entire time he cried near nonstop, only halting for an instant to breathe. She did many things, from funny faces, gestures, abd even pleasant scents in case

“Did you clean it?” the elder shouted over the noise.

“Yes!” Itxaro replied. She tried that just to be sure.

“My nose is not what it used to be,” the elder reminded her. She then proceeded to spill out a professional list of solutions. Most of which Itxaro already tried. “Where were you when this started?”

“In the birthing chamber!” Something clicked inside of Itxaro’s mind. With most other possibilities exhausted, she had to consider something unfathomable.

She slowly returned to the place where the problem started. She rocked him in her arms as she looked at the floor and ceiling.

“Did you recognize this place?” she asked him. She placed a hand over her forehead. “What am I supposed to do if you did?”

Traces of voices came to her from outside. She stepped out and there were Alvah and Desdomena. The glyph on the man’s cast glowed bright green. He completed it at some point while she was looking away.

“Can we return yet?” the aberration asked impatiently.

“I am distracted at the moment,” Itxaro replied.

“We can clean it ourselves,” Alvah offered.

“No, it has to be me,” Itxaro refused.

“You can not start because he is whining, correct?” Desdomena asked.

“Yes.”

The aberration held out her arms. “Pass him to me,” she instructed.

“Why should I pass him to you?”

“I have a way of giving people what they want,” she replied, already turning to leave as if Itxaro already answered. “Let us go somewhere nice first so it is worth our time. How about there, Alvah?”

The destination that Desdomena pointed at and wound up leading everyone to was the top of the western hill. From there, they had complete view of the village, Itxaro’s home included. There was still reluctance on her part and many reassurances where given from the pair that the aberration would not harm the baby.

“You swear you will not hurt him?” Itxaro pressed.

“I am not some animal that gobbles up anything,” Desdomena replied with false indignation. “I have taste.”

“Even if you do not try to eat him,” Itxaro worried even as the crying continued. “You could still do other things like drop him?”

“Do you think me evil or clumsy?” Desdomena replied insulted.

“Alvah,” Itxaro turned to the man. “Can you promise that nothing will happen to him?”

Even Alvah looked doubtful and did not say a word as he watched Desdomena for some cue.

“I will not do a single thing to him, Alvah,” Desdomena assured him. “I will take nothing. Not a hair. Not a drop of blood…” She slowed. “Not a shred of emotion.”

“He will be safe in Desdomena’s hands,” he declared confidently.

Itxaro inhaled and passed him to Desdomena,

As she held him, Desdomena took on a near perfect guise of the child’s mother. The only way to distinguish that fantasy from reality was the injury on her left eye that refused to heal.

The facsimile sat and cradled him in her arms as she soothed him with wordless whispers. Itxaro felt her eyes wetten at the sight. Even if it was a false image, it was a beautiful one.

“How did she know to do that?” Itxaro whispered to Alvah as they watched.

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“Many aberrations can change appearances but Desdomena is an allu. A trait inherent to them is that they can become the person you most want to see without even needing to know.”

After the child went back to sleep, Desdomena gestured for Itxaro to approach and take him back. Itxaro gladly accepted. Desdomena stretched as she took on her most common appearance.

“Transforming into a mother is becoming quite a habit for me, isn’t it?” she exclaimed.

“Family is important for most,” Alvah verified.

The two outsiders glanced at Itxaro but the young woman said nothing. Their conversation seemed to have been entirely been between them.

“Damn,” Alvah realized. “I told you about the arcane, didn’t I?” He pressed his palm against his forehead.

“That was not your fault. You were explaining something that was happening just in front of me,” Itxaro reasoned. This was also something her grandmother might want to know. “How does her copied appearance work? You already explained some of it. You might as well tell me more.”

“Tell her, Alvah,” Desdomena instructed him. “You’re not teaching a lesson. You are boasting about me.”

“To us, Desdomena’s copied appearance is more lifelike than the real one,” Alvah explained. “She does not mimic the original, she takes on the mental image we have of them. She is true to the memory not reality, though she lacks that person’s memories. It is just an image, a mirage.”

“But I think I can do a passable impression of anyone,” Desdomena continued. “I get their voices as well. I can’t read thoughts while on the outside, but I can see the colors of your heart and how emotions dance and swirl at the sight of me. Even if it is not true to the image, it is what my prey wants.”

Itxaro held the child as tightly as she could without waking him. If what Desdomena said was true then...

“Does he have a name?” Desdomena asked, gesturing to the baby.

Itxaro did not immediately answer. “He has a name,” she replied as she tried to think of one. “His name is Eneko.”

“Eneko, huh?” Desdomena leaned forward and examined him. “I do not see the appeal of children, especially when they are that age. They can not even take care of themselves yet they complain."

*****

After they parted, Itxaro went further west and held her breath as she circumvented the nearby mounds to collect some flowers. She found some cyclamens.

Cyclamen grew in the shade of trees where most other plants struggled in clustered stalks as if already prepared for a bouquet. The long leaves crowned the ground like a wreath beneath the stalks. Depending on one's mood, one could say the leaves looked either like hearts or arrowheads and the five petals each flower had formed a bellike shape that weighed down their heads. Their color was a light pink like sugar that had been touched by a drop of blood.

It was not native to the forest, its ancestry was from somewhere to the south yet it came to belong all the same. It reminded her of her own people's place in their new world.

As for the symbolism, it should not matter. Flowers were more often associated with positive concepts but Desdomena was a mass of twisted sentiments. It represented empathy or devotion, the aberration claimed to taste emotions and stayed near Alvah so oddly, it somehow fit.

Itxaro headed back home, passing the birthing chamber along the way. A by then freshly awake Eneko seemed to recognize it but did not begin to cry just yet.

“I am sorry but even if you return to that room, you will never see your mother again,” she whispered.

Itxaro greeted the elder after she returned. “I know it is a week early but can you watch him for me while I clean the chamber?”

“You do have extra duties at the moment. I think we can make an exception,” her grandmother allowed.

“Thank you.”

Itxaro placed the flowers she collected on her bed and left to continue what she started that morning. While Itxaro cleaned the chamber the outsiders moved about the village as quickly as Alvah’s limp allowed them. They went by greeting people, and studying the buildings, among other things.

It was when Alvah drew water from the well that they began to sing. Itxaro did not notice at first until Desdomena’s voice reached across the distance and through the walls. It was a chaotic serenade like steel wires to the rhythm of a thunderstorm. Even if it was from the mouth of an aberration, Desdomena’s voice was beautiful and strong to match, whatever words she chose to project sounded supernaturally fair except this song was not to sooth but to incite.

Itxaro could imagine this being what warriors might have marched to war to. They were essentially in the center of the village, if Itxaro could hear them from the chamber, everyone else could.

Itxaro stepped out to see. Not everyone appreciated the tune and were not silent about their thoughts. The one to actually confront them was Lady Itxaro.

Their conversation quickly grew heated. The aberration likely being the one that started it but the mother did not relent. Lady Itxaro did not have to endure the same treatment as her daughter and, from appearances, made it clear.

Alvah's lips moved and the conversation slowed and concluded with all three walking towards the house.

It was Lady Itxaro that called her daughter out. "When you are done take these two somewhere they can sing their songs without disturbing anyone else,” she told Itxaro before addressing the outsiders. “And you two remain quiet until then. Unlike you, the people here have duties to fulfill.”

Her mother eyed Itxaro’s empty hands. “Where is the child?”

“He does not like the chamber so I left him with Elder Itxaro.”

The mother stroked her chin in thought. “I see. You do not have to retrieve it then if you are going to accompany them. It is good to introduce children to music but not when that music is so… loud.”

Desdomena muttered a curse after Lady Itxaro left. “It annoys me that you like that woman.”

“She cares,” Alvah stated.

Itxaro was not sure how she was supposed to feel about that knowledge. She cleared the chamber to distract herself from the awkwardness or to scrub her own mind of it before letting them enter.

“You got it all nice for us,” Desdomena praised.

“But the child does not like this chamber?” Alvah asked as he looked about. “Was that what you said to your mother?”

“I believe so,” Itxaro replied. “I do not want to test to see if I am right though. I will not be able to join you there while I have him with me.”

“We were trapped inside for almost a week,” Desdomena reminded her. “We intend to spend most of our time outside anyway.”

Alvah stayed quiet as he contemplated.

“Do you still intend to sing or should I leave you be for now?” Itxaro inquired.

Desdomena opened the door to look out. “Oh, I most certainly intend to make music. I need to be able to say and do what I please, your people are far too… rigid for my tastes.”

“Isn’t that what you always do?”

"How about there?” Desdomena pointed at the west hill, ignoring the question. “It had a good view. It would be a nice place to play at."

"There some homes below it, they might not appreciate it,” Alvah stated, returning to reality. “We could go behind it and have the land between us and them."

"That sounds appealling," Desdomena agreed with a smile.

"You can not sing there," Itxaro interrupted a little forcefully.

"Why not?" Desdomena asked.

"That is where we place our dead,” Itxaro informed them. “You might wake them."

There were a few options. They could exit the village towns south and let them have their way in the woods. She could lose them though and Alvah's range was still limited. There was a clearing to the east but she could most certainly not take them there. The best choice would be simply to go behind her house where the base of the hill pushed away the trees. It was close and safe.

“You can sing behind my home. You will only disturb my grandmother and Eneko from there.”

“Won’t your grandmother mind?” Alvah inquired.

Itxaro imagined the elder would take the opportunity to study their music style. It would be a decent change of pace from relying on hearsay from the youngest.

“She won’t,” Itxaro guaranteed.

*****

In spite of her mother’s recommendation, Itxaro retrieved Eneko anyway. If Desdomena chose to sing at the same volume she did before, Itxaro should at least be with the baby to comfort him if he began to act like a normal baby and cry.

They faced the trees with the sun beginning to set to their left. “You first, Alvah,” Desdomena directed.

“Alright,” Alvah nodded as he sat. “What do you want me to play.”

Desdomena’s body became dark and gaseous with specks of glass or gems glittering within. “Anything works.”

In his lap Desdomena materialized as a glass instrument similar to a harp. She did not know the name on the top of head but it was a box lyre. A pair of arms stretched from the rectangular base and were connected at the top by a crossbar. Running vertically from crossbar to base were red hairs like string. Itxaro did not even question what she saw anymore.

He strummed the strings. The music that came was strict and rigid, not allowing any chaos to creep into the melody yet the sounds were gentle and light, almost otherworldly. The thrums resonated like raindrops just before a downpour, one leading to the next but never coinciding.

His expression was similar to when he was meditating, entering fixated on his task. If Itxaro found issue with what she heard, it was repetitive. The entire thing was a pattern of repeated sequences.

Eneko did not seem to mind what he heard. If anything he enjoyed it, staying awake to listen at first before his eyes grew heavy and he drifted into the sleep so common for newborns.

"A gardener, a mage, a prince, and now a musician," Itxaro tried to list quietly after the man finished his tune. "What are you not?"

"I am simply me. There is more to people than their roles,"

"Any other talents or skills I should know of."

"It is best to assume I received a basic education in all arts available to me from painting, music, sculpting, and glasswork but excelled in very few of them."

Desdomena’s face formed in the instrument’s base, her scarred eye appearing as a glowing crimson light pronounced by a crack in the glasswork. “Did we fail to keep his interest?” Her gaze fell on the child.

“Babies sleep best when they feel safe,” Itxaro explained. “Sleeping would be a sign that he liked it.”

“Humans sleep so much when they first arrive so fragile and sleep so much when their bones are frail. If not for their size, I might not be able to discern the newborn from the elderly. Human life is so strange.”

Itxaro looked at the life in her hands. “Alvah, remember when you asked me the value of human life? What is it to you?”

“How it is spent,” he answered.

“So, how useful one is.”

“No,” he swiftly replied to her misunderstanding. “Most certainly no. An artist is not useful to society but is he less valuable than a king?”

Itxaro stayed quiet as he would not like her honest response.

“It depends,” he continued as if his question had indeed been rhetorical. “I think it is how much one gets out of life itself for oneself and maybe others. If someone is simply a role rather than a person, then they could be replaced by anyone else.”

“How would you measure that?” she inquired.

“Without Desdomena, I can’t hope to even begin to measure. Even with her eye, we can only see what one is experiencing at that moment, not what they have accomplished in the past or strife for in the future. In most cases, I would prefer to assume there is a relatively equal inherent value in everyone. However, we ourselves know the value of our own lives so our greatest responsibility should be to preserve our own lives."

Desdomena’s normal body stretched from the instrument, the string becoming her hair and the arms becoming her corresponding limbs. “But some people put other responsibilities first.” She pointed to something behind them.

Itxaro looked and atop the hill stood Zorian’s silhouette.

“What a mindful father, making sure two strangers do not steal his children away,” the aberration commented as she regrew her legs to stand. “Do you think he can hear us or is he relying only on his eyes?” she tested before waving an arm to shout. “Come join us good sir!”

That woke Eneko and to Itxaro’s relief he began to cry.

“It is alright,” she soothed. “Cry all you want. It is normal to be scared when woken like that.”

This much made sense. Eneko should be crying more but instead he was quiet and crying nonstop for reasons that should have been too advanced for his age. The only reason she could think why he had been upset by that room was that it was where he last saw his mother but babies were strange things. If she hid a toy, they would think the toy ceased to exist. To him, his mother should no longer exist but to comprehend that was the last place he saw her was beyond a newborn’s capacity.

Zorion made no move to join them. He simply watched. His mere presence was a message.

“Being shy can be endearing but it has its limits,” Desdomena teased. “Stay there if that is what you want.”

Itxaro calmed Eneko and processed what Desdomena said. “You said “children,”” she recollected.

“That is right,” Desdomena confirmed. “Eneko is his child as well, right?” The aberration came close and studied the baby’s features then looked at Itxaro. “He is your brother isn’t he? There’s only two grown men here and he resembles you, besides the abnormalities, more than the other man. Half of the children born here must be your siblings.”

That was a new word to Itxaro so what she just heard meant little. “What is a brother or a sibling for that matter?” she asked in curiosity.

Her two guests exchanged concerned glances with each other.

“If your mother has not taught you what those words are, then she would not be happy that you learned it from me,” Alvah withheld.

“I will not tell her you told me,” Itxaro promised.

“Parents have a way to discover their children’s secrets and you have already been trusted with one,” Alvah replied before exchanging a look with the man on the hill. “It is best to be honest with family,” he seemed to speak to Zorion.

“Curse you, Alvah. It is just a few words.” Desdomena pretended to writhe as if the secret brought her pain. “I will tell her if you do not.”

“I would rather we keep our word.”

“You gave your word. I did not. Come here girl.”

The monster whispered the meaning into her ear. By the explaination’s end the aberation’s lips stretched to her ears in a grin, her teeth sharp.

“That means he is family,” Desdomena concluded as she parted. The aberration chuckled slightly. “That means you are-“

“I had brothers and sisters as well, some of them were older than me and many were younger. They are all gone now,” Alvah interrupted as he looked into the darkness ahead of him.

Desdomena growled at the interruption. “Can you not spoil my fun, Alvah?” she complained, playfully hitting his shoulder to no sign of harm. “You got to meet humans like you wanted so you’re the one enjoying this more, not me.”

He had many siblings Itxaro noted to herself as the meaning of the word became clear to her.

“Were you not going to sing, Desdomena? You might get enjoyment out of that,” Alvah suggested

Itxaro bit her lip, expecting something tumultuous and extreme. Fortunately, Eneko was already awake.

Desdomena grinned to his words. “I was planning to put words to your tune tonight,” The aberration gestured to Itxaro and Eneko. “If you liked the sound of his then you should love this,” Desdomena boasted.

It did not take long for her to begin. The whole world seemed to go quiet as she inhaled. The rhythm the aberration sang to was similar to what Alvah just played. However, her voice rose and fell to lend further life to it all. Here and there she twisted it to make it more similar to the chaotic thing that Itxaro expected.

Oh my dear family and friends

I can see you found freedom

Father, oh dear father

You were so passionate

That passion is now ash

And you are now cinders

Mother, oh dear mother

You were so warm

Now you are surrounded by warmth

In the belly of a beast

Sisters, oh sweet sisters

You were so beautiful

You still are

As you do not rot

The flesh has been picked from your bones

Brothers, oh playful brothers

You were so vigorous

But that was for naught

You have gone still

Resting forever in the dirt

My dear friends

You are all gone

Your voices no longer reach me

No matter where I look

You are no nowhere to be seen

Behold oh world

See these wounds that bleed

Witness these eyes that still weep

Watch me build a shelter of bones

Alone in this darkness I can see

All that could not be seen

Alone in this silence I can hear

All that could not be heard

Worthless gods above

Dead souls below

I concoct a potion

Of ash and blood

If only you were still with me

Then I could share what I learned

Alvah’s reaction to it all was strange. He smiled to the sight of Desdomena singing but his lips twitched to the words as if ready to falter. His eyes wettened at the beginning but dried by the end.

What Itxaro listened to was not perfect but it was bearable and not even half as loud as what she first heard that justified them having to go somewhere more remote to sing. Eneko did not even wake.

“Did you two cause trouble on purpose?” She tried not to sound accusing as the night air was filled anew with the call of insects.

“We most certainly caused trouble but I think the fault lies in those that can not appreciate the finer arts,” Desdomena practically admitted.

“Why?” Itxaro asked.

“Now they won’t mind if we skirt the edges while we walk rather than expect us to remain inside. If anything, they will ask us to stay away and be more than ready to bid us goodbye when we leave,” Desdomena replied.

“I was hoping to make a better impression of the first human survivors I met,” Alvah bemoaned.

It was growing dark fast and while Zorion might have stepped out of sight some point in the song, his presence was not forgotten. They parted ways before all light daylight utterly vanished to be replaced by stars. Itxaro wondered if the hunter came simply to tell her to go home.

*****

“That was a disturbing song,” the elder pointed out as they reviewed the day. “Was that something he made himself or from his homeland.”

“I do not know,” Itxaro answered honestly. “The aberration chose to sing it.”

"Speaking of the aberration, are you certain he claimed that his familiar is an allu? I am starting to have my doubts that is what it is."

“I am certain.”

The elder disagreed on stifling the guest’s lessons so found no problem in him saying what he might. Even under strict scrutiny, what he mentioned about Desdomena’s nature was within the limits of his agreement.

"Allus were among the first aberrations to appear with enough regularity to receive a category. They are ancestors of the temptress archetype, essentially a precursor of every imagined devil that toyed with people in dreams. They are not supposed to be so powerful.”

“All I know is that he said she was an allu and like I said before she had that ability he claimed allus have.”

“He was not lying about the nature of an allu’s transformation. If the ability to change conforms to that, maybe she is one, just an exceptional example of her kind. It would not be too strange. It is the nature of aberrations to be chaotic so exceptions of any rule is to be expected. Anything else to tell me about?”

“Nothing comes to mind,” Itxaro concluded.

“Your mother told me they might have taught you something else.”

Itxaro bit the side of her mouth. So, Zorion reported everything to her mother. “What did she tell you?”

“Nothing truly. Simply that the two disagreed with the other enough to argue about it. What the topic was went unheard.”

It was a good a time to ask as there ever might be. “They told me what a sibling is. Why is it strange to know about blood family?”

“Because family is more than blood. Such words are no longer needed. The community is what matters more, not which ones happen to be sown from the sane seed as you. You already knew the concept but did not know the words.”

“Why avoid those words then?”

“Because it might skew your way of thinking. It might invite favoritism. You might not be able to make the right decision when the time comes when you put value into blood.”

“You value me. I am of your blood,” Itxaro claimed.

“You earned your value, dear,” the elder closed the discussion of the subject. “Is there anything else I should know?”

Itxaro breathed in to pull back the words she had ready. “No.”

“He might prove to be more trouble than he is worth but we still need to learn their weaknesses. Tell them what they should know, keep their confidence and gleen what truths you can while they are studying us.”

Itxaro bowed her head and returned to her room. Her mother held onto Eneko while the grandmother and grandmother conversed. With that, the mother laid down while Itxaro remained awake.

Itxaro tied the stalks of the flowers together she collected together with their leaves into a necklace while waiting for Eneko to inevitably wake to be fed. She slipped live seeds from storage under the base of the petals.

“What is that?” Her mother asked from her own bed.

“A thank you gift,” Itxaro answered. “For the outsiders.”

“What do you have to thank them for?”

“Their time.” Her mother said nothing but looked at it all disapprovingly before Itxaro added. “And it is a warning bell. I can hear the plants so maybe I can locate them with this.”

The mother smiled. “That is clever.”

Eneko did wake but it was in his unusually quiet way. Itxaro did not noticed he had been roused until he reached towards the pink blossoms in her hands.

"You like them?" she lowered one to him. "They are cyclamens. Careful, though." Such young children were rarely affected by pollen but Eneko could have any kind of reaction from what Itxaro could ascertain.

The necklace was developing a pattern of bell-like flowers separated by the leaves so that the tips of the leaves were pointing out like the arrows of ancient compasses.