As she finished eating and sipped her tea, Soren's thoughts drifted again to her odd Control dates. She knew from a young age her control Dates weren’t normal. Yet neither her mother, father or even Louis ever brought up the subject. Yalina hadn’t spoken of Soren’s of birth dates at all until she was ten, just two years past. Even then, it had been an accident. Her mother had been comforting Soren after a particularly vivid nightmare when it happened. It was the fifth night in a row she'd awoken screaming, waking everyone in the small house. Everyone’s nerves had been frayed past breaking. Soren remembered crying, trying to explain the dream to her exhausted mother. Long dark shapes had chased her. They moved like fluid and stretched along the ground like shadow,

“Mama, I cain’t go back to sleep tonight.”

“You can and will go back to sleep. And you will stop having these terrible dreams. You have to control them little one. You can do this.” Yalina had said, deep circles under her eyes,

“I don’t wanna dream anymore mama.” She had said as her mother tucked her in. Soren could still remember how fast her heart beat, how terrified she was.

“Louis doesn’t have nightmares.” she had said,

“Louis wasn’t born with every sign known to man in Enki’s house” her mother replied sharply before looking away. Soren hadn’t said anything for a long while and eventually her mother sighed and turned to her daughter.

“Mama?” she had asked. Both felt the childlike desperation only a severe lack of sleep can bring.

“Every one that I know of Soren. You are blessed over and over by the dream god. You are the strongest dreamer to have been born in my lifetime, maybe ever. If you cannot control your dreams, no one, look at me Soren, no one can control them.” Yalina had said this all quickly. Soren remembered not knowing what to say, or what it really meant. Still, her mother continued,

“Next time you see one of these shadows in your dreams, face them, show them the light.”

“The light?” Soren had asked,

“Little one, you can shine like the suns in your dreams if you like. You can do anything you like in your dreams, it just takes practice.” Soren didn’t respond but did look back at her mother, hope brimming in her eyes.

“Sleep now, the wonders of Enki’s house await you.”

Soren didn’t dream of the shadows again that night. Though she somehow knew they were always at the edges of her dreams, just out of sight. Since then, the knowledge of her Control Dates had slowly eaten away at her. Even now, Soren wasn’t quite sure what to make of it all. It was generally accepted that a mix of many different signs was best. It kept someone from being extremely strong in any one sign, though they often had the versatility of many different strengths. An entire industry of “experts” had been built around what combinations of signs were best. Supposedly in the big cities far to the north, wealthy families planned these combinations with fastidious efforts, and often terrifying results. This often led to large numbers of births within a certain year, or even certain months, depending on what signs were considered popular at the time.

Soren had lived the first ten years of her life under the assumption that she was just like everyone else. Maybe a little better at controlling her dreams but certainly nothing notably different to her. No one spoke of her Controls or her Control tattoo and she never asked. Even Tucks kept tight lipped about her Controls when they were younger. Now, Soren sometimes caught herself daydreaming about what it could mean for her. would she travel to the distant Schools of Dreams on the Twilight Coast? Tucks had told her of it once on a long summer day last year. In the green light of midday, he told her of adept dreamers who studied in huge towers, and observatories, learning the ways of Enki and developing their dreaming powers.

After Soren told him of her Control dates, Tucks had told Soren that his mother had once been admitted to the School of Dreams but that her family had been unable to afford the journey. Apparently, they found prospective students through their dreams, entering the dreams of potential students where they revealed the location of their schools. The rest was up to the dreamer. Soren had never met another real person in her dreams, at least she didn’t think she had. Though once, she had spent a whole night in deep conversation with two fish. Real or not, the fish had been unexpectedly chatty and while she couldn't remember much when she awoke she had remembered waking up giggling to herself.

As for Tucks mom, Rosie Everett’s married Tucks father, settling just outside of Cottonwood. Tucks father had purchased a range of land that butted up against the Pickett’s along the western edge. The two families had been close from the very beginning and Soren’s mother even helped Rosie with Tucks birth, her own belly full with Soren at the time. Soren’s mother often said they were ‘twinned souls’, friends from before birth. She had told Soren that when Tucks had been born, she had felt Soren jump with joy. A few months later, Soren herself entered the world, perfectly pitched on the edge of this world and Enki’s. Rousing herself from her musings, Soren downed the rest of her now lukewarm tea.

“Mama,” She said, standing from the table.

“I’m done, do you know where papa went?”

“Out by the shed, he was headed there last I saw.” her mother replied.

Soren stepped out the front door and before the door had slammed shut behind her, she heard her mother say,

“And remember Enki’s gift!”

Soren accelerated towards the shed in an excited jog. It was up over a small hill, behind the small wooden barn that housed the three horses, the milking goats and the only cow their family owned. The milking cow, which no longer produced milk, was given to her father as payment. Soren’s father had spent two weeks getting an old stump out of the ground for the Wilkins family who lived on the northern side of Cottonwood. The agreement had been for a gold Grouse, eleven silver Flat’s and three copper Coif’s. When the time came to pay however, Marty Wilkins had instead walked up with the skinny, aged cow explaining they didn’t have two Coif's to rub together and this was the best they could afford. As she turned the corner of the barn Soren remembered how furious Louis had been at their father’s dealings.

“They cain’t treat you like that papa” he had said. Her father had said nothing until they had returned home with the cow, looking into the sunset as if there was some mystery to be solved in the two suns setting.

“Louis calm, it’s alright. Give it a year of good grass and water, we’ll have the sweetest milk in Cottonwood” Soren’s father had replied when they had finally put the creature in the barn. That had been well over a year now, and Soren hadn’t seen a drop of milk from the sorry thing. Still, it had gotten larger around the middle and Soren held a secret hope her father would be justified once it was all said and done. Though he hadn’t said a word about it, Soren noticed her father pointedly ignoring the Wilkins calls for help two months past at planting season.

“papa” she called seeing his black Friesian. Old Janie, he had named it. It was tied up to the side of the shed.

“’n here” she heard him call back from inside.

“Soren, I will need your help presently.” Her father said in his oddly formal manner,

“Here, take this shovel, I found something odd out south a ways. Not sure what to make of it exactly. Looked like a long line of… mounds I’d guess, goes as far as I can tell in either direction.” Soren’s heart began to hammer immediately and she was sure she could actually see the Ochre begin rapidly pulsing in her pocket.

“mounds?” she said, trying to sound calm. As if she didn’t know exactly what he was talking about.

“uh-huh damndest thing I ever saw.” he said not looking at her.

“I will get yer pony, it is a way’s out there and I am still looking for ya brother. You haven’t seent him.”

“No papa,” she replied, though she knew he hadn’t really been asking. Her heart still felt as though it would pound out of her chest. It caused her headache to redouble and she had to brace herself against the wall of the barn next to her.

“I know the Shifts are bad for ya, ‘specially this time round,”

“’s alright” Soren replied, but her father didn’t seem to hear her,

“but I need ya help, we need ta find ya brother. I know he took ‘is horse, followed them tracks ta those mounds. Now go getta waterskin and some food from ya moma and I will meet you out front directly.” He said all this is his formal clipped manner and Soren turned and followed her path back into the kitchen she had just come from, mind racing at the implications of what her father had just said.

“Mama, he said we need a waterskin and some food. Papa still cain’t find Louis but he thinks he’s somewhere south a here, found tracks.” she didn’t tell her mother about the mounds, didn’t know how to and if her dream was anything to go by, Soren didn’t want any of her family around the things. Maybe she could send her father in the wrong direction. Even if not, at least this way she could keep it to a minimum, just the two of them. Soren expected her mother to say something, to ask some question Soren either did not or should not have the answer to. Instead, Yalina dug out the waterskin, filled it with fresh water from the water barrel. Then took out a pack of soft leather, not unlike the one she had given Soren in her dream in fact. It was a fact that only added to Soren’s apprehension. Yalina packed the bag with dried meat, freshly made tortillas she slathered butter on, and a sizeable mix of dates and almonds she put into an unadorned cloth tasques before placing everything into the leather pack. Yalina handed all this to Soren who took it wordlessly, then stepped out to meet her husband.

“Dolor,” Yalina called as he walked up to the house in between Old Janie and Soren’s pony. In the way of her mother’s people, Soren didn’t name her pony, instead preferring to call it “her pony” or “her horse”. It was a sign of respect, her mother had told her and reminded Soren that the pony was, and always would be, a wild thing, nameless and free. As he walked up, Soren’s father said,

“Yalina, I need to find Louis. Not sure where he went off to but it is not like him to run off without a mention. These tracks are too close to the house to of missed it.” Yalina looked at her husband for a moment, before saying,

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“Dolor, I do not like this.” Then she whispered,

“Something is off. And it is not just the Shifts” Even whispered, Soren still heard every word. Yalina Pickett was not a woman who scared easily. Soren knew she had lived a life on the brink of catastrophe and her family was often just a few steps ahead of ruin in this unforgiving land on the edge of desolation.

“We will be fine my love. Have dinner ready for all of us, we will return presently and you can give Louis the tongue lashin’ he rightly deserves.”

The two embraced and Soren stayed back, pretending to be adjusting her sock inside her boot.

“Soren, we need ta hurry now.” her father said,

“yes, Papa” she replied as she took her pony’s reigns and mounted.

As they turned along the trail that passed the apple trees, Soren had to stifle the rising sense of Déjà vu. She picked a few of the apples just like in her dream and they were just as mealy as she’d expected. She fed the rest of them to her pony as they walked on. The day was a pale green and by the time they had reached the edge of their land, it was just past noon. Unlike her dream, time certainly moved now and the heat of the two suns began to bake the parched earth. Yet the heat soothed her as well. The heat was real and it grounded her to this world in a way wholly unlike her dream. The two eventually dismounted and walked their horses to the shade of a Cottonwood, the only shade for at least a mile around. They sat under the tree and drank from the waterskin and ate the dried meat and tortillas. Soren was opening the pouch of dried dates and almonds when her father spotted the rider in the distance. Whoever it was, a good mile or so away somewhere on the Everett’s property, wouldn’t be able to see Soren and her father under the shade of the Cottonwood. Dolor Pickett stood up, knees popping as he loped into the sun and waved his hat in a big circle at the rider. The rider made the motion back and Soren could tell he had turned his horse towards them.

It didn’t take long for Soren to realize the rider was her friend Tucks, sat in what was unmistakably her brother’s horse. She looked at her father who didn’t look back, yet she could see the fear in his posture. As he finally turned and looked at her, she saw fear around the edges of his eyes too, right where the crease lines extended just a bit too far.

“papa” she said softly to her father, who didn’t reply.

“Papa,” she said a bit more urgently, standing and taking his arm. He looked down at her, and she could see the fear very real now in his face.

“Papa, it don’t mean anything. That storm last night, it might have just spooked Louis’ horse. Maybe he forgot to lock its pen or something. We don’t know what happened papa.” Dolor Pickett didn’t reply but looked down and smiled at his daughter. It was the saddest thing Soren had ever seen in her short life and reminded her of the day her grandma, his mother had died. Tucks came up soon after, slowing the gallop of the horse to a trot then a slow gait before dismounting with a greeting to Dolor and Soren.

Tucks had been born a few months before Soren. He was born in the month of Virgi, on Silurunight in the week of fire. Because of his Silurian birth-night he had a strange ability to simply be in the right place sometimes. This was through no coherent act on his part, or so he claimed. Also, because of his birth month of Virgi, Tucks had the uncanny habit of knowing information he had no right knowing. Though neither of these happened often, when they did, Soren couldn’t help but wonder at her friend. In just such an occasion Tucks came up to Soren and her father saying,

“Hallo Mr. Pickett, Soren.” Tucks unsaddled himself and took off his wide brimmed hat, smacking the dust off it against his leg in the way men much older than him did. He was pale and sunburnt under the hat and his short-cropped hair was plastered with sweat and dirt to his head.

“Hey Tucks” Soren said smiling,

“’s good to see ya’ll out here.” He said walking the horse up to the shade.

“I found ‘er grazin’ south of our pasture just an hour or so ‘fore I saw ya’ll. Was comin’ up to see ya when ya spotted me.” Dolor Pickett looked Tucks over with a measured eye,

“Tucks, you seent Louis this mornin’? he wasn’t with that horse, was he?”

“No, sir.” Tucks said,

“Just the horse, looked pretty spooked too, had a helluva time reignin’ ‘er in.” Dolor Pickett nodded, as if expecting the response. He paused for a moment, turning around and picking up the waterskin and handing it to Tucks.

“you by chance here to help this afternoon? Don’t know if you’ve seen ‘em but something strange is happenin’ just south a’ here.”

“you mean them hills appearin’ last night?” Tucks said,

“Just so, we followed Louis’ tracks. Gonna go take a look, see if I can find somethin’ out there. Need ta least see what those mounds are about.” Dolor Pickett said, looking south. Tucks took a long pull from the water skin before handing it back saying,

“Well, need ta tell m’folks where I’m at. Supposed to be out pullin’ weeds today. Everybody but me gets The Shifts off, I swear.” He paused then said,

“Tell ya what, lemme take this horse back for ya, it ain’t far. I can tell ma where I’m at and be out here quick. You just headed due south of this tree?” he asked gesturing towards the cottonwood.

“Uh-huh.” Dolor said while swallowing a mouthful of water himself.

“I will leave Soren just due south to where those mounds are. I need to find Louis though.”

“Yes sir. Give me a moment and I’ll meet ‘er and we can follow ya and meet up.” Tucks said mounting the horse again. Dolor Pickett also began untying their horses and motioned for Soren to take the pack and do the same. She did so saying,

“Tucks grab some more water too. Louis’ll be thirsty when we find ‘em and we don’t have much left of this.” She sloshed the waterskin at his back.

“Will do!” he called as he spurred the horse and galloped off. Soren watched the lanky figure of Tucks for a moment, watching him inexpertly drive her brother’s horse around the brush and small hills. Soren and her father also mounted and, heading south they made their way along a straw-deer trail. Keeping to the downtrodden path, Soren’s pony followed just behind her fathers.

It didn’t take long before they spotted the undulating line of mounds. They looked eerily similar to Soren’s dream and once again she had to fight off the intense feeling of Déjà vu. Before long they were at the mounds. As in her dream, she could smell the moist mounds of soil long before they reached them, the saccharine odor of decay was on the wind. As soon as their mounts got a whiff they began to tug and attempt to reverse course. Eventually Soren and her father had to dismount and walked their horses, whispering calming words all the while.

The mounds were easily recognizable in the dry desert. The moist and aromatic soil made an odd contrast to the pale sun-cracked earth around them. The dark rich soil was utterly alien and Soren could feel the moisture of the mounds as it wafted up, refusing to dry out in the baking suns for some unknowable reason. She looked at her father and Dolor had that blank look on his face, same as her dream. He slowed as they approached and Soren followed, quickly coming up to the side of him. Dolor Pickett began to reach his hand out to touch the soil. Before he could though, she grabbed his arm exclaiming,

“No Don’t!” Dolor startled and looked at her, somewhat wide-eyed. Soren thought she could even see anger in those eyes. Yet she continued,

“We don’t know what that is, we should use the shovels, right?” Her father looked at her, momentarily bewildered before looking back at the mound then turning to his horse and saying,

“Right you are. No tellin’… No tellin’ what is buried under these unwholesome things.” He grabbed his shovel and pulled Soren’s out as well, dropping it as it caught on a strap of her pony’s saddle. He bent down to pick it up, and froze as he did so.

“Look here.” He said motioning to the place next to where he had dropped the shovel.

“I cannot tell if they are Louis’ but those are certainly boot prints and they seem to lead southeast.” Soren bent down and examined the prints herself. They did look like boot prints but Soren couldn’t tell who'd made them.

“think they’re ‘is” she asked.

“I can only think of one other that’d be out here. That bein' the person made these things.” He gestured to mounds,

“Tell you what, you start diggin’, I’ll follow these tracks. Then when Tucks gets here, if you have not found anything you two come find me. I will see where these go for as far as I can ‘fore we need to head back. I would guess we have at least five or six hours of light left.”

“Yes, papa.” Soren said taking the shovels from her father and handing him the waterskin.

“I will head back soon as I found him.” Dolor said as he mounted his horse once again.

“Hurry back.” Soren said as he began to steer his horse due southeast.

He nodded his reply over his shoulder looking at her with one eye and spurred his horse with a kick and a “Hya!”

Soren looked back at the Mounds. She had kept her father from the mounds for now but who knew how long that would last. the mounds were compelling, almost wanting to be dug up and she didn't think her father would be able to resist that impulse for long, whatever it was. The nearest one to her was huge, easily fifteen feet tall, dwarfing her. She thought she could smell the lemony pine scent of the Elephant Tree emanating from it. The mound next to that was small, maybe ten inches high and about ten inches wide they were both perfectly round, unnaturally so. The mound next to that seemed to be somewhere in the middle. It couldn’t have been taller than six or seven feet and about that much wide as well. She paused momentarily, unsure which mound to begin digging into. Finally, with a firm determination, she took hold of her shovel and began swiping away at the smallest mound.

It didn’t take long, within minutes she had found what was buried there. The small fox tail appearing first, then as she slowly sifted away the rest of the soil, the rest was revealed. It was a tiny thing, the color of dust and looked distinctly out of place in the soft soil. She stared at it for a while. Tears came unbidden in her eyes then fell then dried. She shoveled the thing out of the soil and laid it in the natural dirt at her feet. With trembling hands, she dusted off what was left of the dark brown soil in its soft fur. As she turned it over, Soren saw the unmistakable wound where the head had been crushed in. She was still huddled over the small body when Tucks galloped up behind her, a small dust cloud following in his wake. She looked at him, tears still in her eyes.

“It’s alright.” He said dismounting her brothers’ horse. He repeated it as he came close,

“It’s alright. Come on, ‘s just a fox, we hunted these in the dozens last year, ‘member?” He said shaking his head,

“’s not that,” she said, looking at the next mound, the one that now seemed distinctly human sized to her. She looked at the long row of mounds stretching as far as could be seen in either direction and Tucks followed her gaze. Then he understood.

“help me with this next one.” She said, and together they took shovels to the mound and began shoveling that rich dirt. The work felt good to Soren, somehow absolving what she knew was coming. Again, the soil was soft like freshly sifted flour, and again it seemed to hardly take any time at all before they had uncovered the horror Soren had known was coming. With the resignation of acceptance Soren took a trembling, sweaty hand and brushed tears from her cheeks then the dirt from her brother’s face. The brutal reality of it hitting home with a dull suddenness that shocked and somehow detached from Soren.

“Gawds, I’m so sorry. Gawds. aw Gawds Soren.” Was all Tucks could say. Soren didn’t say anything. She just stared at her brothers bluish distorted face for a long, long time. Finally, she looked at Tucks, a ferocity taking hold of her in a way she’d never known.

“Help me with him” she said, and together they pulled Louis Pickett’s body from the unnaturally rich soil and set him atop her horse. The two made their way back to the cottonwood tree with the body. It took much longer to dig his grave in the hardpacked soil of his home. Soren and Tucks, working together, managed to finish within a couple hours. Their blistered hands finally dragging his body into the uneven pit of familiar soil. She didn't even realize what she was doing most of the time. only fury and anguish filled her mind. Tucks seemed to have felt the same because he said nothing, only shoveled with undisguised rage. Together they covered the place back up using the dry soil they had dug up. After it was done Soren found twelve rocks, placing them around the grave in the traditional symbol of the Ancient twelve gods. Only then did Soren dimly realize her father still hadn't returned. She and Tucks had just buried her brother before her mother or father even knew what had happened to him. Her brother, like her had desert blood in him and he would rest peacefully if the ancient customs were followed. It would be days later before she realized her mother had never explained how to care for the dead.

After placing the final stone on her brother’s grave, Soren rose. She still had that ferocity in her eyes when she looked at Tucks. In the slowly setting suns, the orangish green hues caught in her eyes and shown, after-glow trails burned in Tucks own eyes as he watched her turn.

“lets go.” She said with detached steel in her voice. Tucks didn’t respond but only mounted her pony behind her. The two of them riding like they had a hundred times before, but they both knew nothing would ever be the same. They rode in the direction her father had gone, following the undulating mounds southeast, into the dying light.