Rene worked almost every day, albeit only for a few hours on some. As far as Tara knew, they were still whatever people needed help with around San Asari—Rene admitted once that if she spent much more at home, especially if no one else was there, she wouldn’t feel productive enough.

When Rene did have a full day off, she usually spent it with Adelinde, Matteo, or Tara—typically not all three, due to the latter two’s relationship (or lack thereof). Admittedly, Tara enjoyed the days with her, Rene, and Adelinde the best. Tara preferred silent company over Matteo’s usual attempts at conversation.

The normalcy distracted her—made her forget she had left San Asari, and of the two visitors that were coldly greeted in the time since. All of that scared her when she made the connection of what that woman—Elina—said at the village and what Matteo found in the text of that gravestone; she had a strong feeling they spoke of the same ‘new nation.’

It gave her a kind of dread. Adelinde and Rene noticed, even among their casual conversation—but as soon as Tara focused either on their talking or her drawing, she didn’t feel it anymore.

She drew in the same way Adelinde played the piano: without really thinking about what she was doing. When she noticed her thoughts changing to a point where the original drawing’s subject shifted or became recognizable, she went on to a different piece of paper until the original inspiring thought returned.

Because of that, she didn’t entirely realize what she was drawing until Rene glanced over at her.

“You seem invested in that,” she said kindly. “Mind if I see?”

Adelinde murmured some agreement, and Tara looked down at the drawing to decide. Apparently, even without realizing her thoughts had been on the legend; the drawing depicted a girl—like her—in a ship’s cabin with a young man. He almost looked like Itzun.

Tara shook her head in response to Rene’s question, but flipped a few pages back to something she could show them. Finding one she finished earlier on one of the other rainy days—a drawing of Adelinde and Rene playing on their respective instruments—she turned it over for them to see.

Adelinde half-blushed and Rene let out a chuckle.

“It looks really good,” Rene said.

Adelinde offered a smile as well. “I’d say you’ve improved enough; you could very easily join the wandering artists in October.”

Tara glanced back down at the drawing and considered it. They suggested it nearly every year after Tara started taking commissions, reasoning that if her art was good enough for people to pay for, it would be appreciated as an option in the arts festival. The requirement of talking to so many people always deterred her.

Ultimately, she gave the same answer as always.

“…Maybe.”

Even that made both of them give her proud looks. She enjoyed it—their admiration in her work. She knew it wasn’t meaningless flattery, either.

They fell into silence for a little bit before Rene remembered something; she looked over at Tara, albeit with a kind of hesitance.

“I forgot, admittedly,” she said, “And I know it’s been a week and a few days since then, but before we got that first visitor it seemed like you were going to ask me something. Do you still have a question for me?”

Tara didn’t have a hard time recalling. She had wanted to ask if Rene knew of the place they went to—if she knew about the legend inscribed on that gravestone. She worked up the courage to mention it in the time after Matteo showed her the translated text, but the interruption shattered whatever confidence she mustered.

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Considering Matteo declared he would stop looking into it due to being uncomfortable—Aurik had argued his case by way of mentioning a ‘new nation,’ after all, and she couldn’t blame him for wanting to avoid something that reminded him of his father’s attempted filicide—Tara doubted Adelinde would be willing to hear it either.

In response, then, Tara just shook her head.

“I…figured it out myself in the time since.”

“You’re sure?” Rene asked for confirmation, not looking entirely convinced.

“I’m sure,” Tara replied as firmly as she could.

Rene didn’t press for details, and after a small bit of silence struck up conversation with Adelinde again to avoid the reminder of their visitors. Tara continued drawing, albeit skipping past the one of the girl on the ship.

…

Itzun had enough decency to wait until the night to talk with her. As a kind of thanks—albeit still not entirely willingly—she responded to his first greeting. He almost looked surprised.

“Oh! I thought you would have ignored me.” He put on a kind of teasing smile. “Are you finally appreciating me, little one?”

“No,” Tara replied honestly. “But you didn’t make me sleep through a day with Rene and Adelinde, at least.”

She faced the spot where Itzun sat, but neither one moved any closer to the other. Itzun smiled.

“That does make things easier,” he said. “You see, I’ve come to a certain…realization about you. You’re smarter than I gave you credit for.”

Tara immediately turned away from him in response, and he frowned. He didn’t apologize nor explain the comment in question, merely carrying on as he usually did.

“I knew you would make connections,” Itzun continued. He took a few steps closer, albeit circling around her by some distance. “But I didn’t think you would find them concerning. You’re dreading something you were meant to do.”

“Am I supposed to understand what that means?” Tara asked, giving him a wary glance. He spoke in vaguer terms than he used to, and to some extent it worried her—not because she cared for his openness, but because of the topic he chose to keep half-hidden.

Itzun let out a thoughtful hum, stopping in front of her but not quite looking in her direction.

“No, I don’t think you should. Not at the moment, at least.”

“Could I ask you to speak plain or not at all, then?”

“Unfortunately for you, I can’t do that.” He turned towards her, offering a little smile that held some mischief as per usual. “You have a purpose, little one. You ought to have some ideas of what it is before its thrust upon you.”

Tara sighed. She couldn’t get a better answer out of him than that, honestly; he would never give her a straight answer. Itzun seemed pleased that she acknowledged that.

“You’re a strange one, Tara,” he said, bending down to be closer to eye level with her. “An omyn who dreams, afraid of losing her family due to her oddities yet knowing quite firmly that they never will, afraid of rain and lightning but has never once been trapped in it. You dread things that you have no reason to—things that, as far as you know, have no connection to you whatsoever.”

“I’m aware,” Tara replied, frowning. “Do you have a stronger point to make? I don’t need more fears from you.”

Itzun stood again, slowly walking back to his spot as he spoke.

“There is a reason you are here—in the world, at least, if not specifically with your current family. Sooner or later—and I have my bets on ‘sooner,’ considering your visitors and the way you consider this ‘new island’ information—you will understand that reason. While I can’t guarantee your family will still care for you afterwards, I can say that your oddities will make sense. If nothing else…”

He reached his usual spot, sitting down on the ground cross-legged with an almost kind look. “I will still be here to guide you. I know you’re not fond of me—and, yes, I know you consider that an understatement—but I’m here to help you. If ‘helping’ means negating my progress and your purpose, then so be it. This show is only interesting if its participants are willing.”

Tara prepared to question him, but the dream ended before she had the chance. She slipped into a dreamless sleep for the rest of the night.