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Despite having this thought, she grasped at the next branch of the gnarled tree. This tree was supposed to be the domain of a fey, but she didnât really care about that. Sheâd never seen a fey, so she didnât know if they even existed at all, or if they were just another story. Sure, her parents said they were real, but they said a lot of things. Like âdonât eat the honey, weâre saving that for later,â but then sheâd caught her dad sticking a goopy finger in the jar anyways.
And anyways, she was just climbing. The tree was so much taller than any of the others that sheâd been itching to climb it for ages. Surely the fey wouldnât mind if she did.
At least, that was her thought process when she reached up for the next branch and it snapped off in her grip.
She plummeted.
Ah, she thought. Iâm probably going to die.
I see, she thought. That is unfortunate.
I donât want to die, she thought.
Why? she thought. Death is not to be feared, it is merely a cessation of life.
Thereâs a lot of stuff I havenât done yet, she thought. I havenât grown up or fallen in love or any of that stuff.
She suddenly realized that she had been falling for quite some time - much longer than she had any right to be, given the circumstances. I see, she thought in a voice that came from her mind but was not hers. And what if I could grant that wish?
Youâre a fey, she thought.
Yes, the fey said inside her mind.
My mom says you shouldnât make deals with fey, she thought.
Your mom also said not to climb that tree, and you did anyways, the fey thought back.
Yeah, but look where that got me, she thought, mentally gesturing to her current circumstances.
Touche, the fey said.
She thought. On the one hand, the fey might be trying to steal her soul. On the other hand, she was definitely going to die if she didnât take this deal.
So, what do you want in return? she thought, after some time.
The fey was silent, and then spoke. I want to see it. Those things you spoke of.
What, you mean, like, falling in love and all that? she thought, a little surprised.
Yes. Mortals are so curious, in their simple, earnest desires. I want to experience it for myself.
She thought about this. How? Do you want me to, like, find you a date?
She felt the fey chuckle. No, child. I want to become a part of you.
That sounded... bad, probably. Uh, how do you mean?
I will give a fragment of myself to you, and it will become a part of you in the same way that your adventurous nature is a part of you. And at the end of your life, that fragment will return to me.
Hmm. All things considered, it sounded better than dying.
She thought about it for a long time. Finally, she thought towards the fey: Okay. Iâll do it.
Thank you.
At once, there was a pressure inside her head: not a physical pressure, but a mental one, that made her feel like she was going to pop at any second. She clutched her head and shut her eyes, but that only seemed to make the pain worse.
By my authority as the Queen of That Which Inverts into the Same Class, I bestow upon you my fragment: She Who Inverts Inertia.
And, just like that, the pain evaporated into naught.
Do take care of her.
And then, as before, she was falling. But this time she was not afraid, because all she had to do was invert her own inertia and land safely.
She stood up from her landing, and inspected herself. She did not feel any different, but at the same time she supposed that it would not be a change she could easily detect. Hmm.
She discarded the snapped branch she had absently been holding, and hoped that no one from the village would be able to tell either.
â...The thread that we weave with is very important, we have to dye the wool and spin it ourselves. But we donât have to worry about that now, Iâll teach you how to do that later.â Ms. Hyugeo retrieved a basket carrying several skeins of yarn, in an array of colors: red, green, yellow, black, and white. âIâve already taught you how to weave a pattern, so now weâre going to practice how to do real weaving. The good stuff.â
Caleo nodded, watching her teacher intently.
âThe reason we normally weave with yarn we spin ourselves is because weaving is generally better with yarn that youâve spun yourself, but since this is just a small project this should be fine. Now, let me show you the pattern youâre going to be weaving.â
She pulled out a large book full of weaving patterns and flipped to a certain page, revealing a diamond-shaped pattern. âToday, weâre going to be weaving a pattern of protection. It might not be very useful in everyday life, but itâs the easiest one for us to test.â
Caleo sat down at the loom and began weaving. âNow, Caleo, as you weave, keep the pattern in your mind and imagine the pattern keeping you from harm, diverting any harm that might befall you onto a different path. Imagine that thought permeating the cloth as you weave it...â
Ms. Hyugeo coached Caleo as she weaved, until a few hours later the cloth was finished. âAlright, letâs see how you did. Wrap yourself in that cloth, and Iâm going to throw some marbles at you.â
âWait, why are you-â Caleo hadnât even gotten the question out before a marble hit her square in the chest. âOw! What gives?â
But Ms. Hyugeo kept throwing marbles, one after the other. Miss. Hit. Hit. Hit. Miss. Hit. Hit. Miss. Miss. Hit.
Ms. Hyugeo wiped her brow. âAlright, that should do it. You did a pretty good job, for a first time using borrowed yarn.â
âWhy were you throwing marbles at me?!â
âTo test how well you did. Youâre standing only a few feet away from me, so I ordinarily shouldnât have any problem hitting you with a marble, right? But I missed, four times out of ten.â
âWait... huh, I guess that makes sense. And that was all me?â
âMhmm.â Ms. Hyugeo nodded. âWeaving isnât very glamorous in what it does; it tends to work in ways you wouldnât even notice. It didnât divert any of the marbles mid-course, it just made it so they wouldnât even hit in the first place.â
Caleo studied the cloth wrapped around her. âBut it wasnât very good at making them miss.â
âNo, six of the marbles still hit. But with thread you made yourself and some experience under your belt, you could make 99 out of 100 marbles miss.â
âWow... Do you think I could do that someday?â
Caleoâs mentor chuckled. âOf course. I was like you once - I actually think I did worse on my first pattern. But nowadays, I could do that easily.â She checked the clock. âYou have to go home now, right? Keep that cloth; maybe itâll bring you good luck.â
Caleo waved goodbye and took off down the street. Ms. Hyugeo watched her go, then settled down into her empty kitchen. It was nice to know that there were still good kids like Caleo around nowadays.
Weavers had a bit of a bad reputation. It was said that they brought curses down on those who wronged them; most of the children called her a witch. Most of the adults thought that too, but at least they didnât say it to her face.
That was the reason weaving was starting to become a dying art. She wouldnât be surprised if in fifty years there were only a handful of weavers left, if there were any at all. It was sad to think that this gift, which had been given to her by her mother and her motherâs mother and all those who came before her, would soon be wiped off the face of Aldwe.
She shook her head to clear away these thoughts, and set to work on a new pattern. A cloak for Caleo, that represented all of the hopes she was placing in her young pupil.
The garden was thick, choked with vines that blocked out the sun. In the absence of light, the past and future became one and the same: that which had been, that which was in another time, and that which could have been all blended into a haze of what-ifs and what-was.
They stumbled forward down a new path, not remembering where it had started nor where it led. It seemed vaguely familiar: had they traced it before? They had been here so long, they didnât have any way of recalling.
They could travel anywhere they wanted using the paths, but they no longer had any sense of what they wanted. They had traced a thousand routes, lived a thousand lives, and they were all starting to blend together.
What was the point in keeping track of it all? The ways may lead to different destinations for everyone else, but for them there was only one ending: