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STEPPING THROUGH GLASS

WREN

I know instinctively I shouldn’t go, that I should just stay home in my quiet cottage, stuff my ears full of wool to drown out the music rolling down the streets, the promise of welcome, the desire to belong, but it is too strong.

Stronger than anything I’ve felt before, I think; the pull of this magic night, this chance step outside of time harder to ignore than the first bloom after the rains.

And so I give in, shrugging of the strangeness of my talk with Rannoch and Silas, pushing aside the memory of the crowd flowing around me, of Tahrik not seeing me, and I stutter-step my way to the very edge of the square, outside the ivory walls, still on the bone side, peering around the corner like a child spying on her parents.

My eyes immediately seek out the rollicking band of players, Tahrik in the middle of the lot, laughing and singing with his friends, women in front of him smiling up at him with welcoming curves and beckoning fingers.

A sick sort of knife twists in my stomach — I forget sometimes that he has a world outside of me; how selfish I am, how arrogant to believe that just because he is my only friend, I am his.

For some reason I want to cry, a complete waste of water.

But just as I have to swallow back tears, he looks up, across the square, through the throngs of villagers and Traders, and meets my eyes, for just a moment.

“The Sun and the Moon!” he shouts, staring directly at me and nodding slightly, waiting until I nod back, then looks away. But he sings more loudly than before, sending the song spiraling through the sky, and I know his choice is a message to me.

“The moon was a goddess alone in the sky,

Alone oh alone and alone she did cry

The Sun saw her tears by the light of the day

And he flared into flame til he burned them away…”

The chorus is taken up around the square, feet stomping, hands clapping, and in sudden motion, a whirl of dancers sweep by us, pulling my eyes from Tahrik in spinning, swirling color.

Mead is being poured freely around from freshly tapped barrels, the weight of the coming Storms disappearing in this rare, unheard of respite.

Some breath of fresh air arrived with the Traders, some promise long forgotten, some hope of perhaps.

Perhaps we will make it through now, perhaps not so many will go to the Silence, perhaps the children won’t emerge from the winter months quite so gaunt, so hollow.

Perhaps, perhaps, perhaps…it is a rhythmic word, repeated in the dancing feet and happy shouts of the people around me, and it carried me with them.

It makes me careless.

So when a warm voice and warmer body press against me from behind, I sway into him unintentionally, barely brushing him, but barely is more than enough encouragement.

“Dance with me, Wren?” He is joyful, his earlier run-in with the Father not diminishing his natural exuberance.

“Don’t say no,” he begs, smile pleading as he walks in front of me and takes my hands, backing up toward the dancers, pulling me with him.

“Don’t say it. I’m sorry for every misstep.

My only talents are saying stupid things and dancing.

You’ve had too much of one. I know. I know.

Can I make peace with you through the other?

” He pauses, unsure now as to his welcome.

“You don’t have to forgive me. But can we not dance? ”

“I–” Pulling a hand away from him, I reach out to grasp the bones in the wall for support.

He misunderstands my reluctance, and asks with a deflated yet oddly defiant air, “Are you not even allowed to dance ?”

“I…” I honestly don’t know. “No one other than you has ever asked me…”

“Well, I’m asking. There is no reason for no. There is no moment but now. Come with me, Wren.” Kaden’s voice is low, alluring. “Come dance with me.”

And Gods help me, I do. Throwing all caution to the wind, I step forward with him and let him lead me onto the floor, into the music, into the chaotic happiness of the people there.