Page 36 of River & Rue

I stare at the moon. The tree branches don’t look like cracks anymore; they look like a cage.

Granny’s warm fingers cover my cold ones. Her face is soft, creased, and familiar. But her eyes… they aren’t right. They don’t reflect any light at all, endless black like the space between stars.

A chill runs over me. I tense, and her hand tightens on mine.

“Listen, child. No matter how much you learn in life, what you don’t know will always vastly outweigh what you do. This uncertainty is a great gift—an endless source of curiosity and awe—but only if you remain open to it. Be mindful of the forts you build within. Make sure there are windows, or the safety you seek will become the darkest of prisons.”

Now I really don’t understand what she’s talking about. All I can focus on is how weird her voice sounds, lower than normal and echoey. Almost like two people are talking at the same time.

But there’s no one else here.

Her eyelids flutter, then snap open. When she speaks, her voice has changed again. This time, the echo is higher-pitched. Her hand turns to ice.

I don’t move. Don’t breathe.

“When you’re lost in darkness and without hope, a storm will come. If you surrender to her chaos, she’ll bring you back to colors and light. If you recognize her and dance with her wildness, you’ll keep each other safe forevermore. But heed my warning: if you reject her gift, there will be no other chance for freedom. No escape from the prison within.”

My teeth are chattering, my heart pounding so hard my ears throb. Whatever is happening, I want it to stop.

I tug on her icy fingers. “Granny? Come back. Please, come back.”

She gasps, her head falling forward. Slowly, her fingers warm in mine. When she finally looks up, I swallow a sob. Her eyes are back to normal, full of tears as they scan my face.

“Oh, my boy. I’m so sorry for frightening you. I didn’t expect…” Her face crumples. “Come here, sweetling.”

She opens her arms. I lurch into her hug, sagging as I breathe in her familiar smell—sweet like flowers but spicy like Mom’s favorite candles.

After a minute, I feel brave again. “It’s okay, Granny. I was a little scared, but you’re not scary. No matter what, you’ll always be my favorite fort.”

She makes a soft, surprised sound.

The back door opens, spilling yellow light and the comforting voice of my mom.

“It’s freezing out here, you two. Come inside. We’re about to start the movie.”

• • •

I wake up disoriented in an empty room, a heavy blanket draped over me. A hint of frankincense lingers in the air.

The past pulls at me like it wants me to stay. To remember. And I try to hold onto it—I always do.

But just like every other time I’ve fought to recall Granny’s message that day, the words twist and slip away.

16

rue

​. . .​

make a wish

The flowers in our clearing have tripled since yesterday, like the soil was holding them prisoner and the storm set them free. I can’t name many of them, but I recognize vivid purple lupines, poppies, lavender and pink daisies, and dandelions.

So many dandelions.

I’ve been sitting on the bottom step outside the cabin long enough for the sunlight to spread from my feet to the tops of my thighs. My legs are roasting, my stomach begging for lunch, and the mud on my arms is dry and flaky.

But I don’t move.