I had to. I couldn’t sleep at night. My body still felt wrong and I was clumsy. Words came to me with difficulty. Whatever Whaaloo had done, it needed to make it right.

  I burst through the trees, barely staying on my feet. The fireflies swarmed round Whaaloo, who was singing a song in a language I didn’t understand. It hopped from foot to foot and waved its arms. The fireflies reacted to its movements and formed shapes. It was as if Whaaloo used them to paint on the air.

  The screams and rebukes I had caught in my throat as I watched the scene unfurl. Whaaloo’s windy melody whipped through the forest and the trees swayed with it. It was a song of long vowels and notes that came as if Whaaloo had a dozen mouths instead of one.

  Mesmerized and caught up in the dance of the fireflies, I found myself swaying to Whaaloo’s song. Then moving as it directed. I hopped and swayed my arms. Without thinking, I was beside Whaaloo, spinning with it and singing along, though I knew none of the words crossing my lips. We danced and sang for what seemed like a moment, but the redsun’s light began brightening the sky.

  “It’s morning!”

  Whaaloo jumped and clicked its heels. When it landed, it bowed.

  I ran home then, trying to beat dawn. The melody surging through me. My body right in my skin for the first time in too long. I laughed and jumped and ran with such ease I could’ve ran forever.

  I couldn’t say when, but I think it was almost immediate. The moment I saw Whaaloo and the fireflies, I was seeing again. With my own eyes. I was smelling and feeling. I was hearing with my ears. And instead of sensations bouncing off me or getting tangled inside, they filled me up, poured power and energy and beauty into me.

  When I lay down, my heart still beat so fast and I couldn’t stop smiling. Mother’s body sweaty from the warm night radiated so much heat. I kissed her on the face and she opened her eyes, “Lu?” Blinking slowly, she brought a hand lazily to my face. “I love you too.” Then she pulled me in close and held me tight.

  Then she fell back to sleep, but HoPa got up and woke my brothers. They went to check on the new traps, the garden, and whatever else men do with their summer mornings.

  Chapter XXXVIII

  The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.

  I thought Whaaloo was showing me the song of the forest. The one my mother told me about. It would take me all year to discover this wasn’t true. But I returned to Whaaloo every night to sing and dance with the fireflies.

  Whaaloo had healed and the cracks in its shell became knots where it grew back together. The wood thickest at those places and not following the grain of the surrounding shell.

  The Days of Death—our celebration and commemoration of the dead—had come and gone that first winter of the year. One mild winter night after we stopped dancing, the night was still dark. The sky still full of stars stretching deeper and deeper into the ocean of sky. I sat beside Whaaloo, the fireflies swarming above us.

  “Are you a god?”

  “A god?”

  I nodded, “Mother says the forest is full of gods.”

  “What is a god?”

  “Something old. Really old.” I struggled for the word. “Ancient.”

  Whaaloo raised its chin and stared into the smallest moon that was hovering directly above us. “Is the moon a god?”

  My brow furrowed, “I think so.”

  “Because it’s old?”

  I chewed my fingertips, “Because it shines for us.”

  “Does it shine for us or do we live to watch it shine?”

  “What?”

  “The moon might think we are gods.”

  I laughed, “The moon gave birth to the wolves.”

  “Do gods give birth?”

  I nodded, “The wolves gave birth to humans. But so did MotherTree. I think dragons did too. A lot of gods give birth to other things.”

  Whaaloo clicked and wind whistled through it, “Are all those things gods?”

  “Mhm. There are loads of gods. I think my mother’s a god. She gave birth to me and also she’s real strong and people are afraid of her. But also they love her. I think they’re afraid that they love her.”

  Whaaloo’s body rattled and creaked. It lowered its head partly into its shell, “I do not think I am a god.” Its voice echoed within its shell, making it sound far away.

  “What are you?”

  “Whaaloo?”

  I shook my head, “Are there more like you?”

  Whaaloo closed its eyes and sank into its shell, “They tried to kill Whaaloo.”

  Wrapping my arms round Whaaloo’s shell, I said, “They can’t get you here.”

  Whaaloo receded completely into its shell. Limbs and all. Its voice echoed inside, “You saved me. But should you have?”

  I nodded, rubbing my cheek against its rough shell, “I’ll save you again.”

  I never had to, but I would have. If I found Whaaloo again, I’d protect it still. Whaaloo became a friend to me. A dear friend. Maybe one of the only true friends I had before and after the dragon. We didn’t always speak often but I think Whaaloo understood me best for much of my life.

  Chapter XXXIX

  And now we’re coming to that part of the story. The dragon. The terror. The creature that stole my mother and daughters. The dragon that stole my family away. It burned so much more than skin that day at the edge of the forest. When you hear the old stories of the gods, you don’t consider what it’s like to meet one. To come into contact with that awesome power.

  Even if you survive, you’re not saved. You’re not without wounds. Wounds humans can’t see. Wounds the gods are indifferent to.