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Cedra
“About damn time!”
Lulled into a daze by the monotonous chirping of cicadas, I bolted upright in my chair, my friend’s sudden outburst making my heartbeat gallop.
I stared at Ana’id, seated in the old plasti-wood rocking chair across from mine. Her head was tilted to the light evening breeze on my front porch, furrows creasing her forehead as she concentrated on a noise in the distance.
She was wearing her very best clothes in preparation of our community’s Harvest Feast—a cotton shirt that only had a few light stains and a pair of work trousers fashioned from recycled denim. At the corners of her temples, her curving horns were freshly buffed and polished, reflecting the waning sunlight.
“Delivery droid incoming,” she reported, and I knew from experience that Ana’s forecast was always accurate. As a Beast hybrid, her senses were more keenly developed than my own Fanger abilities, and that meant she could sense things on the horizon before I could even see them.
“Good,” I said, clearing the cobwebs in my throat. “We’ve been waiting forever for the damn package.”
Leaning into the grooves of the chair, I sighed in appreciation for the way it molded to the contours of my sore, aching back. The plasti-wood creaked a little as I let it rock, the sound of swaying wood bringing back memories of my father, who had built it for his Mate.
I ran my fingers along the armrest, caressing the smooth wood. It felt like just yesterday that I’d caught him in the barn, stressing out about finding just the right materials for the chair and dipping into his savings to purchase extra-strong plasti-wood that would last several lifetimes.
Day after day, I’d return from school only to find him sanding away at different pieces he was working on, sweat dripping from his brows after a full shift of tending the cows.
I’d always offer to help, but he’d decline, saying that this was a special gift for his beloved.
And it had been a special surprise indeed. Mama had used the rocking chair every single day until her passing.
The hours after dinner had belonged to my parents alone. They’d sit on the porch with a glass of fermented tea and an e-reader, watching the sunset while the chairs creaked away.
Now I spent the evenings by myself, feeling the last embers of the day caress my skin before dusk approached.
I glanced at Ana, noting her shoulders had tightened as she looked into the distance towards the town square.
Before I could ask what was bothering her, the image in front of me began to shift.
No, no, no, no, I bemoaned. Not again!
Even the panicked reminder didn’t stop me from catching a fleeting glimpse of Riane, a memory I’d buried six feet deep in my subconscious, but sometimes... One or two stray moments clawed their way to the top with a subtle, stealthy chokehold.
I blinked, trying to clear the image of my former partner seated on the chair across from me. But no matter how much I tried, I kept seeing her blond hair ruffled by the wind as she gazed out into the cornfields, promising me forever and a day.
Dread tightened in my chest, clenching down like a fist.
Who knew forever had a deadline?
“Those kids are going to set themselves on fire!”
Ana rose from the chair, leaving the rocker squeaking in her wake. The sudden move cleared the vision of Riane and I stared down at my boots, trying to tamp the crest of desperate sadness that was rising impossibly fast.
“Are you seeing this?” Ana asked, crossing her arms as she squinted into the distance.
I cleared my throat again, feeling every aching joint in my body protest when I got to my feet.
The past few days had been fruitful ones, but tiring nonetheless.
During Harvest season on the last days of fall, my only employee, Frowh, and I spent days clearing away acres of mature corn for sale or trade, making sure we injected nutrients back into the soil so the land would welcome the next planting at the end of winter.
Even with the advanced tools my father had purchased all those years ago, it was backbreaking work, and I’d usually need a good soak in warm water to get the kinks out of my limbs.
“I see it,” I confirmed, watching a familiar group of kids drag around a sack of corn husks to start the traditional bonfire that was the heart of all Harvest Feasts. “It’s a tragedy waiting to happen.”
There were other adults standing a safe distance away, and I bet if I watched them long enough, I’d be able to figure out who they were even from this distance by their body language alone. It was a talent one acquired after living their whole life on a small Star.
