“I’m good!” Melidor trilled.
“Are you sure? The other day, while I was passing by your room”—Calisa wasnotgoing to say she’d broken in; so far, Auntie Zee had not noticed that anyone had touched her master key—“I heard someone mention seedlings? Absolutely not trying to interfere, but if there’s any way we can help, then I—”
Melidor shrieked, high-pitched, then cascading down into a hum, then silence.
All the beavers stopped munching and stared at her. She waved at them, and they resumed. Perched on the porch roof, Steve reared onto his hind legs and flapped his wings before settling back down again. Calisa and Jack clapped their hands over their ears.
“I can’t,” Melidor said matter-of-factly, as if she hadn’t just screamed like an ambulance siren. “I’m supposed to, but I can’t.”
“Ah,” Calisa said, lowering her hands.Please say more.
Melidor did not disappoint.
“It’s something that every dryad has to do for herself,” Melidor said. “It’s how we enter adulthood. We coax seedlings to plant, and when they blossom, your family hosts a festival. It’s elaborate and awful, and everyone will be looking at me.” She put her hands over her face. “I’m not ready for it, that’s all.”
Dryad.
She’s a dryad.
All right, then.
It occurred to Calisa that she’d had more unusual conversations in the past week than she’d had in, well, ever. Since she’d come here, she’d been continually surprised in both tiny and worldview-changing ways. She wondered if Jack still felt that surprise.He couldn’t have expected mulch-making beavers.Still…dryad or not, Calisa recognized someone being pushed too far too fast. “If you aren’t ready, then take the time you need. Listen to yourself.”
“I’ve already delayed six months! Coming here…this was my final idea for putting it off. I thought if I could disappear, they’d lose interest….”
“Is there a deadline?” Calisa asked. “Will anything bad happen if you wait?”
She lowered her hands from her face. “Well, no. Not exactly. It’s only that everyone expects me to have already planted by now. It’s traditional.”
“What’s the worst case if you wait until you feel ready?”
“My family would fuss.”
“And if you ignore their fussing and don’t listen?”
Melidor considered this. Her eyes flicked from flower to flower, as if drawing strength from them. In the background, the beavers nibbled and gnawed, a steady chomping hum.
“Is there anything that says the tradition can’t wait?” Calisa asked. “Any end time by which it has to be completed or you miss out?”
“No…”
“So it’s just the pressure from what others want?”
“Yes.”
“Then stay here, talk to the beavers, run through the forest, and don’t listen to the fussing. Close your closet door until you’re ready to hear them again. And listen to whenyoufeel ready. You’re allowed to grow up at your own pace.”
Jack nodded enthusiastically.
Melidor’s eyes were wide, and Calisa noticed that the flecks of green looked like leaves winding on a vine around her pupils. “You truly think I can do that?”
Calisa backtracked. “I don’t know your family or your traditions or your…realm.” She stumbled over the last word. “Only you know that. But you can’t force emotions. If you don’t feel ready, I think it’s okay to take a step back if you need to.”
Melidor nodded. “That’s why I came here in the first place. I just needed to think. To breathe. I felt like I couldn’t breathe at home, with everyone telling me how excited I was supposed to feel.”
“There’s no shame in needing time and space,” Calisa said firmly. “That’s why I came here too. I had some stuff to process, and I thought distance would help.”
“Is it helping?” Melidor asked.
