What happened, Des?” Dio tried to keep his voice steady and failed miserably.

  He was exhausted and wanted nothing more than to meditate and lose himself in his innermost thoughts. Still, Des suddenly smiled and pulled him into an embrace.

  “What?” Dio wheezed, struggling to breathe.

  “Brela, she’s doing a little better. It… it’s better,” Des said, nodding in quiet satisfaction.

  Dio flinched and twisted free of the hug. “What do you mean by that?”

  At first, Des fidgeted and tugged nervously at his black beard; his fingers caught in it as though he were afraid of what might come loose if he pulled too hard. He shifted his weight from one foot to the other, sandals scraping faint lines into the dust. Several times he opened his mouth and closed it again, unlike his usually thoughtful and careful self.

  “We… she was lying there in her decaying bed. The boards creaked whenever she moved, about to give in to their rot at any moment. Though she barely moves anymore. Her eyes were milky and filled with terrible fear, Dio. Watching the door as if something were standing there, waiting.” His voice faltered. “And I spoke to her, like I do every day. I told her about the weather, about the hens and garls fighting over grain, about Yorm cursing at people for not following his schedules. Anything to make the room feel less small for her. Less lonely. As if she were still part of us. And she is, of course, still part of us.”

  He rubbed his palms against his trousers, as though the memory left a residue. Then he stopped and tilted his head.

  “Today, I told her about the seed I planted. About the hope we both have that it will save her. That she will be well again once the sapling grows into a tree and covers this village beneath its protective branches. I described it to her. The bark, strong and colorful. The leaves, wide and in all possible shapes. I told her the roots would drink whatever poison is in the ground and turn it into something clean. And the poison in her mind as well.” He gave a short, uncertain breath of a laugh. “I even told her the fruit would taste of honey.”

  He fell silent again and furrowed his brows. Then he continued, hesitant.

  “She laughed softly. The way she does now, all the time. You know, her new laugh, the one that only sounds sad. It’s thin, like wind slipping through cracks in a wall. It doesn’t come from her chest anymore. It stays somewhere low, somewhere tired. I miss her bell-like giggling, her exuberant skipping around, the way she used to spin until she lost her balance and grab my arm, pretending she had meant to do it.”

  His gaze drifted, unfocused for a moment.

  “She tried to lift her hand when I told her about the tree. She didn’t quite manage it. Her fingers trembled halfway and fell back to the blanket. Half her fingers have rotted away. Stinking. Still, she kept looking at me. Not through me, like she sometimes does. At me. As if she were weighing whether to believe me. As if she were considering hoping again. Do you remember her laughter?”

  Des cast a furtive glance toward the entrance of Brela’s hut, as though afraid she might hear him speaking of her in this way.

  Dio pushed the despair aside, as he had learned to do, and focused on the facts to keep his composure.

  “Yes, I miss that too,” he admitted curtly.

  And I will hear it again. Somehow, damn it, somehow.

  The tree, the tree Des planted, only a small sapling at present, yet life grows within it. I can see it when I stand beside it. Feel the strength and healing brimming in its leaves, their softness flooding my mind and bringing a future where there is no more suffering for her. For anyone here. The tree will bring peace and health. It will grow and span the sky with radiant fruits of gold and silver, purple and azure and sunlit yellow.

  He forced the thoughts away because they threatened to pull him too deeply under, and in the depths there was blindness. Again. Always the blindness that stopped him, the only thing that ever stood in his way whenever he tried to think and solve his problems.

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  “I asked her whether she might want to come into the forest with me,” Des said from somewhere far away, and Dio shuddered as he snapped back from his thoughts, which now crashed over him like a waterfall.

  He took a slow breath and blinked.

  “What did she say? She’s far too weak,” Dio pointed out.

  Even so, the idea might not have been entirely foolish.

  “She cried and laughed. Both at the same time. It was that laugh again, the one I missed so much. That bright, bell-like laughter, with her kindness resonating through it.”

  Des blushed.

  “She was so beautiful. I mean, she does look like… you know what I mean, right?”

  Des fell silent and looked down at the ground in embarrassment.

  “That truly makes me very happy. So you’ll try? Do you think she can even get up?”

  “She did. She did get up. As if all she wanted was to walk with me,” Des whispered now, his eyes watery, his smile wide.

  “What?”

  Dio froze. He looked at his friend, thinking he had misheard.

  “She cannot even… You said she could not even lift her finger.”

  “She could not. Now she can. We will go into the forest. Together. Be there, only the two of us.”

  “And she can really manage it?” Dio asked, wanting reassurance.

  Is he mad? Is this true? Has she healed, somehow?

  Only one nod from Des, yet the honesty within it was enough. Dio started laughing. All the burdens on his soul lifted, and he felt relief for the first time in Hundreds.

  “So, Des, you are going to be alone, any further plans?” he teased, still laughing.

  Des turned even redder and began tracing restless circles in the sand with his foot.

  “We are going out. Into the forest. Dio, anything else would be…”

  Des looked sad now. Dio felt doubt and disbelief wrapping around his friend like long arms. He wanted to push those thoughts aside at once. He had no time for them, not now when things were finally better. After so long.

  “Why not? She likes you, and you like her. You do her good. Better than I do. I hope you will have something beautiful together.”

  “I’m an old bore. She’s full of drive and fire, and I work the fields. I’m always the same.”

  “That might be exactly what she needs. Someone who is always there, no matter what happens,” Dio mused, more to himself than to Des.

  “Yes, I want to be with her, I think. Wherever she wants to go. Maybe she doesn’t have much time left after all. Maybe it’s only temporary. Yet she looks a little more healthy again. And it did not get worse when I left. I think,” Des whispered, forcing himself into a careful smile.

  Is that possible? Is Brela’s healing perhaps not my task at all? Does Des have to do it?

  Dio was unsure. Now it was he who wrapped his arms around Des and pulled him close.

  “I hope you both have a wonderful time. Truly, Des. Enjoy it. The two of you together, that’s a magnificent team.”

  Dio closed his eyes. Normally, he could only perceive impressions at very close range, in the strange way he had been able to since the days-long run through the forest. Yet a desire pressed in on him to make sure immediately that Brela truly was a little better. His thoughts wandered to the door of her house. He felt the wood, the hammer blows and careful sanding that had shaped it; the floorboards once cut from a maple tree and laid by Lot, always with the goal of building the most beautiful and welcoming home possible for Brela. Then his awareness reached the bed, and he let out a relieved breath.

  It no longer felt as bad as it usually did. In Brela’s presence over the past few days, Dio had increasingly felt as though he were staring into a windowless room of smooth, gray stone, a space that existed entirely on its own, detached from everything else. Now, however, it was as though he sensed Brela through a veil of fog, thick yet penetrable.

  Uncontrolled laughter escaped his lips. He laughed so hard that his stomach began to ache, and Des had to steady him, completely overwhelmed by the outburst. Then Des burst out laughing as well, and they sank to the ground, landing on their backsides on the newly paved street. They threw their heads back to look up at the sun high above them, glaring and blinding.

  In the distance, Dio heard birds chirping and the wind rushing. A few wisps of cloud drifted across the sky, and fragments of everyday conversation from Daw carried over to him. Some of their neighbors nearby turned toward them and smiled awkwardly, nodding all the same.

  In Dio’s sky, they all gleamed among the stars, all so close, except for the Hunters and Ray, who shone at varying distances in the darkness of his innermost self.

  Then one of the stars went out.

  The laughter caught in Dio’s throat along with his breath. He coughed as a horrific nausea washed over him, and with a groan he fell backward, moaning like a kicked muldi. Des gasped in shock. His usually sun-browned face turned pale and rigid. Not far from them, Andelion collapsed to the ground and began to sob violently, shaking uncontrollably.

  Images flooded his mind. Images of Ogan long ago dragging an old wooden cot over to him and setting it down beside him. Of how he had gone to Lot and built their first cart together back then, so long ago. Now he would never pull a wagon through Daw again.

  Then another warm presence inside him vanished, and then a third.

  Cold seeped into Dio’s bones and beneath his skin.

  He felt numb. To make matters worse, the blindness inside him appeared to mock him by settling into the very places where Ogan, Oli, and Heta had just been. Oli had been in the Dream as long as he had, and now Dio had outlasted him. The young man had always been near the granary, keeping it in order. Heta was usually nearby as well. The two of them had become a well-rehearsed team.

  I think… Ogan had just visited them before…