Dindi
Outside the lodge, the Initiates stood in columns, just as they had before the Test.
But this time, there were three lines: warriors, maidens, and Tavaedies.
A cold, mustard-colored haze covered the sky. The sunrise was hidden. Everyone looked like dark shadows.
Gwenika stood in the Tavaedi line. She glared at Dindi.
Dindi, in the line of maidens, kept her head down. She could feel Zavaedi Brena watching her like a hawk. She tried to make herself small.
Jensi found her.
"Dindi! Thank Mercy you're here!" Jensi said. "Great Aunt Sullana will be so happy. You're finally going to act normal. We're going to have so much fun! You'll see!"
She kept talking and talking. Her cheerful voice felt heavy to Dindi, like rocks piling up on her chest. She had never known emptiness could feel so crushing.
The sky stayed dull. The sun hid itself in disgust.
The three lines began to move.
Each group had a different task to prepare for the celebration feast.
The maidens would gather sugar grass, nuts, and berries. The warriors would go on their first hunt as men. The Tavaedies would dance for the first time with the trained dancers of Yellow Bear.
Jensi chattered all the way down the hillside, across the fields, and to the edge of the river.
The maidens reached a small, muddy stream. It was one of the little branches that fed into the river as it flowed toward the sea.
Tall, tawny cane grass grew along the banks—taller than their heads.
"We're supposed to cut sedges," Jensi said. "Now, which grasses are the sedges? Let's see… Aha! This must be it. Look at the flat blades. Remember the old saying: Rushes are round, sedges have edges."
She bent a bunch of grass to show Dindi.
A yellow sedge sprite clung to the top of the cane.
He waved at Dindi. "Come dance with us!"
At that moment, the clouds in the sky parted. The sunlight broke through like a golden sunflower. The wind sang in the pale reeds. Dindi tasted specks of sweet dew in the air.
Jensi let go of the grass. It sprang back upright—sending the yellow sprite flying.
"Woohhheeee!" he cried.
He flipped in the air, caught himself on the wind with his tiny wings, and fluttered back toward Dindi.
"Come dance with us!" he said again, grinning.
Jensi kept talking about grasses, but Dindi barely heard her.
The sedge sprites were climbing to the tops of the cane. They blew into the hollow reeds, making music—like flutes.
Tiny frog trolls, no bigger than the frogs they rode, hopped toward Dindi. They beat the frogs' throats like little drums.
Flute and drum, chant and hum. The faery music sounded like Tavaedi music—but wild. All the right notes, but none of the control. All the power, none of the rules.
"Come dance with us! Come dance with us!"
They offered her dancing with no failure. No tests. No judgment. No one would forbid her.
If she followed them now, she knew she would never return.
"Dindi, are you even paying attention?" Jensi snapped. "You're staring off into space again."
Dindi blinked at her cousin.
Jensi waved a hand in front of Dindi's face. "It's over, Dindi. You failed the Test. You're one of us now. Stop acting like a goose!"
Dindi thought of Kavio's thinking stones.
And the one, lonely stone.
She had to get away from Jensi. But how?
Then an idea came to her.
"Let's make a bet," Dindi said. "I bet I can cut more sedges than you. Whoever cuts less has to carry both baskets back to the Tor."
Jensi's eyes lit up. "Fa! That won't be me!"
She pulled out her scythe and started slashing the grass right away. She didn't notice the sedge sprites squealing, falling, and sticking their tongues out at her as their homes toppled to the ground.
Each girl became lost in her own patch of grass.
Dindi wandered to the edge of the stream, following the music of the fae.
There, half hidden in the cane, stood a bear. It was as big as an aurochs, with golden fur like sunlight.
Dindi gasped.
The Brundorfae.
She knew she never saw a Brundorfae, and yet she had an uncanny feeling that she had seen one before…
The bear splashed in the stream, dashing and jumping. It snapped at something under the water.
Then it lifted a silver fish in its jaws, proud. It walked to a flat rock, dropped the fish, and tore into it. Soon, nothing remained but blood, silver scales, and bones. The bear licked its paws. It burped.
Then it looked straight at Dindi.
It shook itself. Water sprayed in all directions.
It looked again, then turned and limped up a pile of rocks. Dindi saw it was hurt.
The bear reached the top of the rocks, near a patch of trees. Once more, it looked back at her.
This time, a golden light shimmered around it, like a halo.
Dindi stepped into the stream and waded across. She climbed the rocks to follow the bear.
The Brundorfae led her through a forest of young trees and ferns, into a clearing full of sunlight.
A circle of other golden bears waited there.
Dindi's bear walked into the circle and took its place.