It’s a sort of… plate, wrapping around a high point on the tree. From it multiple good sized round spots are sung into the tree in the middle, while the big outer edges house fertile soil and a variety of plants and smaller growths. Or… in this case, a few beehives.

Mother bumbles the beehive over to a stand, and takes a few minutes of song and handwork to settle them.

“Mother,” Usete begins, “I… We were actually here about–”

“Not out here, little softshell.” She hushes them with a wave and moves to the main room of the house. “Let’s get a meal prepared first.”

That tone, she’s set her mind to it. There’s no arguing with her now. I can’t help but smile at how much I love her. How much I missed her.

Inside we help her prepare a meal, and I can’t help but hum along as she encourages the oven to flare up. But… When she asks me to sing over the bread to help it rise I freeze up. The nostalgia and love of the memories cracked like a frosted puddle. But… but those are Thendra’s songs. Not mine. I… I can’t… My shame bubbles. I gave them all away. I’m barely her daughter anymore.

“What’s wrong? Forget the feel of it?” She eyes me.

Usete saves me. “I’ll handle it mother!” They rush over to the baking oven and begin to hum the melody. “Lyra, can you handle the berries then?”

Her eyes flick between us. And I finally see it. A little annoyance, but mostly… curiosity, a hint of worry… and– I can’t meet her gaze for long, I look away and head to the windowsill where the berry bush awaits. Soon a feast of warm bread and a dozen other wonderful forest treasures is prepared and ready. Cold springwater tea is brewed and sits in little wooden cups before us. At first we just… happily nibble on the meal. Mother hums a soft harmony after a bit, which eventually leads her into the first conversation.

“So what have you been doing lately Usete?” She muses between nibbles and the tune, “Last time we spoke I didn’t get the chance to ask.”

There is a wince in one of their eyes. A quirk of old pain. Had they not spoken since… Since I was last here?

“Stopping some watcher kin and her family from pillaging an old City.” They supply, “I was actually hoping to gain entrance before them, but she approached my glamour form. Had enough connections and little eyes about to notice my interest.”

“Hm… which city did they find?” She murmurs. “You were in Theradas, I can smell the spice on you. I’m not aware of any near there.”

“There aren't. They found one of the Rorliras.”

That makes her eyebrows quirk up, “Ha! I hope you let them stumble around a bit. Teach them a lesson about sticking one's extremities into odd places.”

“Mostly.” They shrug between bites, “They have some… interesting resources at their disposal. I’ll need to go back and ensure they don’t turn the thing inside out by mistake.”

That jerks me into the conversation, “What? You’re… you’re not staying?”

Usete shakes their head, “It’s too big a risk to let the watcher and her kin flutter about, and you’ll need time to heal anyway.”

“But…” I feel a spike of panic. At the idea of being alone with mother.

“You should already be healed,” She turns, examines me. Eyes roll over my scars and bruises, settle on my blackened hands for the first time.

I twitch and pull them beneath the table.

“Lyra is…” Usete reaches beneath the table to clasp my fingers. “Can she stay here? Rest and heal? It should only be–”

She waves them off, interrupting, “Rooms have always been open if you little ones bothered to open your eyes when you visit.” She turns back to her food. “There may be some clutter, might be a bird’s nest or squirrel hovel. Just make sure to introduce yourself and be polite.”

“Thank you.” I whisper.

She only gives me a, “Mhm.”

** ** **

Later that evening, I stand at the boundary of mother’s grove with Usete.

“I… I don’t want to be alone. Don’t… don’t want her to know how–” I beg.

They squeeze my hand, “Then don’t tell her. You know how she is. She’ll distract you both with little tasks and such.”

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Shame, hot and terrible bubbles and sours inside my stomach.

“Best thing for you now is rest,” They turn, begin to sing a complex jittering melody of–

The world tears, and a Rift appears before them.

“Be… Be careful. Please.” Sudden fear as the dark glow of Theradas moonlight bleeds into the sunset of the Fae-Wood.

They smirk, “They don’t suspect Adonie of anything.”

Then their glorious Fae form dulls and fades into that of the Adonie, and they slip through the portal. After it closes I just… stand there for a few minutes. Caught between wanting to run away… and…

“Little girl!” Mother shouts.

I look back, see her leaving the house with a couple pots. “Stop fooling about and help me bring the Rotita in.”

I can’t help but smile, “Coming!”

My mother is so wonderful. I… I know she’s probably worried about things. I mean… last time she’d seen me she’d had to literally push me off the ledge of her home to get me to leave.

To run.

But she doesn’t ask, even in those first few days when she would tell me to sing or hum a tune to help her and I would just… not. Would nearly draw blood as I dug my talons into my palms at the shame and guilt and horror of how much of myself I’d carved away.

Sold to a monster.

But… she wouldn’t push. She’d huff and get me to do things the hard way. Wouldn’t treat me like some newborn bird. It was… almost like before I could really sing. Nights are the worst though. We had no window in Thendra’s room, so I’m also constantly jolted to alertness by random chirps or clicks or loud cat noises. I’m also accustomed to Thendra’s warmth and smell and getting her to fuck me into exhaustion. I find myself reaching for her in this small little bed, only to find empty pain and guilt.

On the second night, after tossing and turning for hours. Caught amidst warm dreams and painful longings, I end up rising to wander downstairs and out into the garden. I end up sitting and leaning against the fresh hive, staring off into the other treetops. The painting of home wafts into my mind as I watch the stars turn above, its lilting melody calls for me to sing.

“Please.” I murmur.

My body still aches. Usete’s healing songs helped, but ultimately… It's my body. Sewing its parts back together is a task only I can complete.

But… that would require a command from Thendra. I shiver in longing and anticipation. Fingers drift between my legs. Almost… almost try to weave a song of arousal and sex and–

Then there is a sound, just a light thing. Intentional, but subtle. A call to alert me to her. I turn, and see my mother staring out at me.

Shame. Oh, so much of it. Similar to when I was young and she would catch me doing something incredibly stupid. Something I knew not to do but chased anyway. Then she turns, and disappears back into the kitchen. For a moment I think she’s returned to bed. But before I sigh in relief I hear the bumping sounds of someone on a task. Then she comes out to sit next to me on the soft grass of the grove, two steaming mugs of hot tea for us. After setting mine in the grass next to me she just turns and silently watches the midnight forest. This is her place. Silly to think she wouldn’t know my movements. She knows it’s every song and hum, and without the melody of stealth I’ll not move around here without alerting her.

“I’m sorry.” I sigh and take up the mug, “I didn’t mean to wake you.”

She nods, takes a sip of her own. A gesture that screams to me of her saying Quite right! And now you're wasting my sleep–

I shake the reply from my mind. No, she… she isn’t thinking that. She cares. She loves you.

“Your hair is a mess.” She chides, sets her tea down. Moves to sit behind me.

I freeze, clamp up as her hands begin to move through my dark mane.

“Ugh, is this…” She spits, “Dried blood. Not even yours.”

“I–” I almost pour it all out, right there. All my shame and–

A sigh, “Let me get the comb, and I can sing some of you better as I work.”

What?

But she has already gotten up and is heading toward the house. By the time she returns I’ve gathered my thoughts up enough to ask. “Usete already did what they could, I… I don’t think anyone else can–”

“I was there when you wove your body,” She turns me so she can work. “I remember enough of it's nonsense to get things moving along.”

“R…really?”

I can feel her stare, how it says; Yes, little girl, I probably know just as much of this body’s inner workings as you do.

Then she starts humming, and feeling her touch again… fingers digging and pulling the dirt and blood and sand while her song washes over and through me. My mouth is open, Amwella gathering, eager to show her the beautiful words I’d learned since–

And the curse bites, hard. I end up coughing and spitting blood. By the time I recover she’s only humming a quiet melody, hand on my back. Can’t even push through it to share those parts of my soul with her.

“Sorry,” I croak, reaching down to take a drink of my tea to wash down the taste. Her song fades as she scoots back up to sit beside me. And I brace for questions.

“I’ll need your help moving the hive tomorrow.” She sighs, “Otherwise I’m–

I jerk my head to her as she just… goes on… like I wasn’t sitting maimed and broken on her grove. Like I didn’t spit blood when trying to sing.

She side eyes me, “Will you be too busy to help your mother?”

“I… why?” I almost hiss.

“I just told you, I don’t trust that nest of little problems to not harass my new brumble of bees.”

I just stare at her.

She rolls her eyes, “Little girl, I have raised twenty eight forest critters to become Fae, and countless others that never develop enough to change and become like us. Everything blooms and grows in its own time.”

“But–”

“If I ran about poking and prodding all my little ones and their problems, I’d drive myself to madness. Would end up returning to the forest floor or unweaving myself.”

There… is a flair. A spike of sudden and hot anger and sadness.

“Is that what you thought would happen to me?” I spit. “Why you never… Never came to find me? You expected me to–”

A sigh and look of tired exasperation chokes out my anger, makes me stammer to a stop.

“It’s what my mother did to me, threw me right off the edge of her grove, when she got tired of my nonsense and felt it was time for me to grow past her.” She grins at the memory, then… her expression does begin to show sadness. “I wasn’t expecting to need to do that to you for at least a century more. Thought I’d need to restrain your wanderlust. Stop you from chasing after some Fae lovers through the Midday Courts.”

“Then… Then why?!?!” I grip at my mug so tight I worry it might shatter, “Why didn’t you come find me? After–”

“Because visiting the Dreamers Wood is… It would have…” She sighs, at a loss for words. Which is rare for her. I’d never seen her stumble at knowing what to say.

“I was so alone.” I feel the tears well up as I whisper my agony. “Expected to die never seeing anyone ever again.”

Pain. Real and hard and old, streaks across her face. I’d never seen that. Ever. It only fuels my desperate anger and floods me with bitterness.

“You were the only person to… to ever love me.” I grind my teeth, “You called me daughter, gave me my songs and soul. I know why you had to send me away. I know that you probably got… were treated poorly for how you helped me. But–”

I’m almost screaming now. “Why love me if you were just going to throw me away?!?”