As Una grew she became increasingly disobedient, disappearing for days at a time, testing the boundaries of Csialeide’s sovereignty, wandering farther and farther away from the pool. The island was large enough, but eventually she would come to the edge and see out of it, the ocean surrounding on three sides, but on the fourth side of the island, the sandbar leading to the mainland where the human settlement was, now a bustling metropolis. Not to mention the stone path that led directly there, the path along which tributes arrived. Csialeide did her best to be supportive of Una’s new found independence, but she worried. Is this motherhood? She thought, a constant subtle fear in the back of your mind that something could happen to your children?

The gods she would be willing to seek advice from dwindling, she decided to call upon the golden calf god Oongx, whose acolyte-initiates often traveled alone for years at a time, following her constellation across the sky. Oongx would know about loving her children from a distance, about giving them requisite independence. ‘Go play,’ she urged her daughter, preparing for the rites to summon Oongx to walk the earth. As Una scampered off, needing little prompting, Csialeide laid out Oongx’s mandala, the formation complex and precise. At the center lay a sacrificial bone to burn, the flames would turn black when Oongx took notice. When the thunderstorm finally arrived she lit up the pyre, pulling back the trees once more to reveal the heavens. It didn’t take long for Oongx to respond to her calling, and with a strike of lightning into the dark blaze, she appeared, her starry constellation form opaque and flashing with lightning. ‘Csialeide,’ she rumbled softly, her voice milky as a baby’s, with a hint of thunder underneath disclosing her age. ‘Oongx,’ she hummed back, ‘as a mother, how do you love your children from such distance?’ A flash of lightning in the distance lit up the glade, the rumble of thunder following after, the soft plink plink plink of rain drops hitting the pool ringing out softly as Oongx considered the question.

‘Children need discipline.’ She rumbled. ‘The structure is important for their growth. I do watch over them from a distance, but they need room to make their own mistakes. And I am there to guide them as they learn, that is the form of my love.’ Csialeide turned the response over in her mind, ‘my daughter has taken to wandering my forests, she avoids coming home for long stretches at a time, it is a distance from her I am unaccustomed to’ she finally revealed. Oongx wouldn’t take advantage of her daughter’s vulnerability like another god would. Oongx looked around the glade. ‘Does she…have companionship?’ She asked, tilting her head at the unnatural stillness. ‘Companionship?’ Csialeide’s startled thought echoes, reverberating all around the trees. ‘Yes,’ Oongx continued, ‘more than just a mother, children need peers, they are important as well. Other beings so they learn empathy, cooperation. Or she will end up just as emotionally stunted as Novem god-eater.’ She stamped a hoof, extinguishing the fire and scattering the mandala, done with the conversation. Csialeide slowly closed the branches above, pondering on this revelation.

Csialeide had been given much to think on. Companionship. She had originally had a daughter to be her companion, to break up the blandness of her eternity. And Una had brought light into her life, but she was quickly realizing that though her daughter was everything to her, she wasn’t everything to her daughter. The asymmetry of the relationship disturbed her. She couldn’t be everything her daughter needed. It…it hurt more than she expected. Motherhood was not what she thought it would be.

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She mulled over Oongx’s recommendations, pondering the dangers of bringing a companion to the woods. Both for Una and for that other being. Only the invited would survive, and many were irrevocably changed even then. Humans and other mortals were out of the question, she wouldn’t allow her precious daughter to be tainted by their bizarre vices.

Csialeide looked up, someone had passed the wooden structure marking the entrance to her woods, they were not cloaked in the human’s ceremonial salt brine clothing, yet they were not succumbing to the toxicity of the forest. They must be the endless, then. She waited, patient as the beings made their way to her pool. Soon she could see their forms through the vegetation. A large four legged beast and a much smaller two legged form walking side by side. As they broke from the darkness their full shapes appeared, a monstrous strawberry tiger, its stripes a muted red, and a small girl, her dark hair reaching her feet, a beating heart pulsing gently in her hands.

‘We’ve been sent by mighty Oongx to accompany the goddess Una as her playmates.’ The tiger spoke, his voice a fierce growl. Csialeide could see the slight starry lining to their forms, constellations then, the children of Nevah, their designation unknown to her. It would be rude to ask.

‘Una,’ she raised her voice, the hum filling the forest, causing the entire island to tremble. They waited, the tiger laying down, his breath coming out with a huff as his body hit the ground, the girl curled with her back in his chest, cross legged. Una stumbled into the glade, her fluffy hair in every direction, an overly large flower tucked behind her ear. ‘Mother, Mother!’ She called, not noticing the new arrivals. ‘Look what I found washed up on the shore!’ She waved the large feather in her hand. ‘And look what I can do with it!’ With the pop of space suctioning in the vacuum she left behind and a plop of the flower falling to the ground, she took the form associated with the feather, a kestrel. She soared around the glade, before seeing the visitors, and with another pop as she filled space once more, she fell from the air to land in front of them. ‘Who are you?’ She asked, eyes wide. ‘Una,’ Csialeide chidded, Oongx had been right, her daughter had no social grace. ‘It is polite to greet the other beings and introduce yourself before demanding the other party tell you their own names.’ Una looked properly cowed, ‘Hello,’ she greeted, a little perfunctory, ‘I’m Una, what are you called?’ The other girl stood up, her hair like rainwater behind her, ‘I am Sabea, and this’ she gestured behind her with a graceful wave of her hand, ‘is my counterpart Izar. We have come to accompany you.’

Izar and Sabea proved suitable friends for her daughter, playing with her by the pool and the nearby forests. Csialeide was a little sad, she felt a bit as if she was not enough for Una, that she was no longer needed. But Una needed to grow into her own person, with her own values and ideas, and she couldn’t do so while directly under Csialeide’s antennaed eye.

Una was beginning to grow a bit out of her spoiled phase, showing a little more thoughtfulness toward Izar and Sabea than she had towards her floral sisters, though her development did seem a little delayed compared to her more mature playmates. Csialeide assured herself Una would catch up, worried her ignorant isolation of her daughter had hindered her.

Despite the space between them, Csialeide still loved watching the being that Una was growing into, even if it was at a greater distance than she had hoped when she had birthed her. She strove to be a good example to Una, but was unsure if Una even noticed her in the backdrop of her games with her new friends. It was lonely, seeing her daughter laugh with someone besides herself. She felt even more lonely than before she had decided to have Una, now that she knew what it was like to be someone’s whole world. But she didn’t regret the experience, wouldn’t exchange it for anything. Una was her one true love.