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A tug on my tunic follows the plaintive voice.
“Wehna, I’m hungry.”
I stare at the wrinkly tubers in my hands. Four lanuum. That’s all we have. Just thinking about what we’ll do after we’ve eaten them makes me sweat. I inhale slowly, masking my worry with a smile.
“Well, that’s good, because I was about to make some lanuum cakes for you.”
I drop the tubers into the little boiling pot above the fire and turn to give Arvo’s hair a playful tousle. His green eyes search mine, and my lips quiver. Have I convinced him? Does he believe everything is fine, or can he see through me?
I turn my back before my smile can falter completely and pull out a board crisscrossed with knife marks. “The question is, do you want them to be flavored with onions or dill?”
Arvo sighs, and I hear his tiny body collapse into the chair by the hearth.
“I don’t like onions. When’s Mada and Pada coming home?”
My shoulders tighten at the whine in his voice.
I don’t know,my mind answers while the words “soon, I hope,” find my tongue. It shouldn’t be this easy to lie.
His toes scrape at the stone floor. “I wish they let me come with them.”
The fresh herbs crush underneath my fingertips, and their fragrance intensifies. My knife hand trembles. I grip tighter. It is not a good time to be chopping things.
“Hey, Vo, can you do me a favor?” I don’t wait for him to reply. “See if you can stab a fork into the lanuum.”
I hear Arvo muttering as he attempts to conquer the bubbling water and spear a slippery tuber. With his attention off me, I let my shoulders sag, close my eyes, and raise my face to the ceiling. After three years, I feel like we only just arrived in this horrible city, and I’m suddenly being forced to navigate it alone. The tears sting when they come.
“Keep your toes away from the fire this time,” I say, my voice strangely breathy and high. My little brother is too preoccupied to notice.
You need to be strong, Wehna.
“Got it,” he shouts, like he’s landed a fish and not a hot potato.
My tears disappear into the sleeve I drag across my face. “Good job.”
Arvo spends the next few moments trying to rescue the others—long enough for me to prepare the other ingredients and compose myself. His grin is infectious as he saunters up and dumps them into the clay mixing bowl. I hand him a slotted spoon, and he sticks his tongue out the side of his mouth while he squashes the lanuum into a white paste. When he tries to drop in the dill, the damp herbs stick to his fingers. A wrinkle forms at the bridge of his nose. I crack in an egg and tip in a small scoop of flour.
With his hands plunged into the savory dough, I turn to the fire and unhook the heavy iron pot and replace it with a flat, rectangular plate that sits above the ignati on knobs that protrude from the sides of the fireplace. When the oil I drip on it begins to shimmer, I beckon my brother over. He’s formed six lumpy cakes out of the dough, varying greatly in thickness and size. I reserve comment and transfer them to the hotplate, one by one. The sizzle fills my mind, and the aroma overtakes my senses. An antidote, for a moment, to my anxious thoughts. I sink to my knees on the hearth, and Arvo nestles into my side. Stomachs grumbling, we watch the cakes cook.
Little fingers play with the bracelets around my wrists. “How come you wear so many pretty things, Wehna?”
I look at the strands with blurred eyes. The colors bleed into one another, consuming my vision. “They help me to forget the darkness, little one.”
Arvo’s brow furrows, and he sticks out his lips like a duck’s bill. “That’s silly.”
A weak chuckle I did not anticipate puffs from my lungs. “And why is that?”
“Because you can’t forget something that’s always around you.”
I squeeze him tighter. His curls tickle my cheek. “Well, I can pretend it’s not there, can’t I?” As if it’s that easy. “Although, I don’t think I’m very good at it. Wanna help me?”
Arvo continues to pull on a bracelet in silence. It’s unique, with angular beads in the shape of flying birds in hues of indigo, turquoise, and blue. I envy the birds of the Vale, with their ability to fly above it all. I have to make myself imagine it, because it’s easy to believe this night goes on forever.
“Here,” I say, tugging at the knot underneath until it springs free. “Why don’t you keep this for a while?”
The beads glint off Arvo’s widening eyes, their fresh green joining in perfectly with the mosaic of colors. “Really?” he asks, breathless.
I nod and fasten it around his thin wrist, gritting my teeth in concentration. “You made one for me, remember? I owe you.”
