Page 172 of Moon Chosen

With her stomach feeling as dizzy as her head, Mari said, “Um, how much farther is it?”

“Not far now. We’ll get there not long after sunset.”

Mari glanced at the darkening sky and wiped her sweaty palms on her tunic.

“You don’t need to be nervous. You’re only going to meet Father and O’Bryan. Oh, and Laru, of course.”

“Nik, did it feel like you wereonlymeeting Sora and Rigel and me?”

He laughed. “No! It felt like I had been tossed upside down into a while new world.”

“Okay, then. I’m going to be nervous.”

His grin widened. “You are going to be fabulous.”

45

Against the canvas of the setting sun, the Tribe of the Trees looked to Mari like a magickal painting created by sky gods. Having climbed the well-traveled ridge more quickly than they’d expected, Nik led her to a pine situated several hundred yards away from where the city began. There were wide, sturdy steps built into the tree so that it was easy for Rigel to follow Mari and Nik up onto a beautiful wooden platform, sanded smooth, with a railing decorated with carvings of flowers and songbirds.

“What is this place?” she asked him, running her hand over the intricate decorations as she stared to the west at the city in the trees.

“It was built a long time ago as a private meditation space. That’s why it’s not connected to the rest of the Tribe. It’s also why my father knew no one would be here this close to dusk. It’s too far away from the city to be used after sunset.”

“Wait, did you say your father?”

Nik smiled. “It was his idea to bring you here.” He searched the platform, looking under the wooden benches built around the circumference of the tree until he spotted a box. “This was his idea, too.” Nik opened the tinderbox and set about lighting the thick beeswax pillar candle. “Father will be looking for this. We’ll stay here until it’s fully dark, and then—with his help—we’ll get you to O’Bryan.” Nik lit the candle and positioned it on the wide railing, facing westward. “That’s it. Now we wait.” Nik made a gesture that took in the massive pines and the city within them. “My part of the idea is that I thought you’d like to get a real view of the Tribe before sneaking into it.”

Mari stared to the west. “It’s incredible. I had no idea it was so big.” Her hand was resting on the railing and her fingers traced its intricate decorations. “Everything is so beautiful. This carving—the birds and flowers look so real it’s like I’m waiting to smell the jasmine while I watch the birds fly away.”

“My mother carved it,” Nik said.

“Really? She was very talented,” Mari said. “How old did you say you were when she died?”

“It was just after my tenth winter.”

There was a long pause, and then Mari asked, “Does it get easier to be without her?”

“Yes and no. The pain gets easier. It fades. Missing her doesn’t fade, though. Sometimes it’ll hit me when I don’t expect it at all—like when I’m doing something as simple as choosing a new blanket for my nest. Her voice will suddenly be there, in my mind, telling me that that particular color of blue reminds her of the summer sky.” He paused and cleared his throat before he continued. “When that happens I miss her so much it’s hard to breathe for a while.”

Understanding, Mari nodded. “I’ll reach for something and all of a sudden my hand will look exactly like Mama’s. It’s so strange how that’s a comfort and a sadness.”

“At least you’ve drawn her. You won’t forget her face,” Nik said.

“You don’t have any drawings of your mother?”

“I do, but they’re not as good as yours. Your talent is impressive.”

“I could draw her for you sometime, if you’d let me try,” Mari said.

“How?”

“Well, show me a drawing you do have of her, and then tell me more—describe more about her to me, and not just how she looked. Tell me about the things she loved and the things she disliked. What was a normal day for her like? What were some of your favorite things to do together? Expression is important in getting a portrait right, and expression is ruled by a person’s likes and dislikes.”

“That would mean a lot to me, and to my father.”

“I’d be happy to do it. When I sketch it’s like I go to a different world,” Mari said.

“Do you hate this world so much?”