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“Try again.”

With each failed attempt, her face tightened, her smoky voice lashing my ears with oaths. “Fuck!” “What the fuck!” “Fucking fuck!”

I suspected she wanted to either kill me or kill the weapons.

Yet not once did she capitulate.

***

Suns rose and set, hours and days drifting, cycling around the treehouse community and encapsulating our runaway group from the world. In this place, both forgotten and legendary, Autumn had never been more present for me, nor so distant.

Likewise, memories lingered and ebbed, the former when I found myself in solitude, the latter whenever the girl joined me at night. In her proximity, she consumed my attention with snark, vulnerability, and fortitude.

At interludes, she retreated into her own concerns, things she would not voice. The incident in the forest plagued her, disturbing her peace of mind. We had this in common, our secret thoughts.

From varied distances, we earned our keep, assisting Lyrik with chores. All the while, I kept watching the girl. I’d patrol a lookout point or converse with Nicu while she fixated on the fires of the outdoor pit, or the indoor flames of the hearth.

Or she would investigate the treehouse foundations.

Or she would draft weaponry with parchment and a stick of chalk that she’d procured during her investigation of the colony.

Or she would stare at the forest, the entrance of which she hadn’t breached since collapsing in the clearing. During each of these moments, she would clutch her chest. She had not resumed her search for whatever cure she sought, and I sensed the dilemma, a conflicting phobia and fervor toward the wild.

Did she think of her mother, as I thought of my wife? Did she yearn to voice these thoughts to me? Did I yearn for her to?

There were hours in which she detoured, rebelling against her troubles. She would make shadow puppets with Nicu, or she would play-chase Punk, or she would come to me. We alternated between meeting at the terrace swings and training in the glade, filling the darkness with banter and quarrels, agreements and disagreements, questions and judgments, mockery and empathy.

Did I distract her from the perils of her quest, as she distracted me? How I hoped so.

Due to these evening rendezvous, we rose late to break our fast with our companions. The lumber maiden was not coy, wiggling near enough for me to get the hint and massage her back, strained from practice. Or her head would slump on my shoulder, and my lips would quirk as I lifted a steaming cup to them.

Other mornings, we sat separately. Our gazes would meet and spring apart. She would sink her teeth into a meal, while I would sharpen a weapon.

***

Hushed tones came from inside her bungalow. I paused, my fist arrested in the act of knocking, with the intent of escorting her to supper. Her voice mingled with Nicu’s, words liketaleandheartandrealbraiding together.

Her woodpecker chirped, a participant in this huddle, privy to its secrets.

The frustrated sighs gave way to mirthful giggles and tweets, the sounds curbing my suspicion.

My mouth rose into grin as I walked away.

***

As there had been a number of close calls, I warned my companions about keeping each item in the same location, then forsook my own advice. By mistake, in the communal kitchen, one of us had left a pair of shears where a stack of cloths had originally been. Not registering the distinction, Nicu grabbed the snipping tool, misidentifying it and intending to wipe his mouth with the blades’ edges.

Lyrik’s arm shot out before mine could, plucking the offensive item from Nicu.

We drilled this lesson into our minds, not letting such a mishap occur again.

***

Lyrik gave our group a lengthy tour of the colony, although he reserved the details of his potion room for Nicu. It led my charge to believe them grand friends.

Imagine his mortification when he lost his way, unable to decipher between a bridge and stairway during the excursion. Imagine his bafflement when Lyrik sighed and walked away as if he couldn’t be bothered, thus cutting the tour short.

Because Nicu’s temper could rise as swiftly as his felicity, he stomped after the young man and called out, “Why do you treat me like this?”