Gigglewick Featherfingers's Arc

Chapter 3 of 3

The humming trees dimmed their glow, and Briar sat very still on the packed earth. Above, the elders' footsteps were gone. Below, only the soft music of the sanctuary remained. Gigglewick knelt across from her and set the glowing ropes aside. "No ropes this time," she said. "Only if you choose it." Briar's hands shook in her lap. "If I laugh, they fade. Like I almost did." Her voice was small but steady. "The whole village." She looked at the round wooden door behind them, then back at the goddess. "I love them. I won't lose them for a giggle." Gigglewick did not argue. She remembered three names she had failed before, and she would not push a fourth. Instead, she pointed to the wall where small bright blooms had pushed up through the dirt — a glowing bed of tickle flowers, drawn out by the closeness of a waking spirit. "Watch," Gigglewick said. She brushed one petal. A tiny chime rang in the room and did not leave it. "The trees hold sound. No bell. No elders. Only us." Briar stared at the flowers a long time. Then she lifted her wrists, palms up, the way a person offers something they have decided to give. "Show me again," she said. "Slowly. I want to be sure it stays here." Gigglewick wiggled one feather-light finger above Briar's palm. Briar flinched. Then she breathed. Then she nodded. The goddess moved her fingers along Briar's ribs in small, careful arcs. A snort escaped Briar first. Then a hiccup. Then a real, bright laugh, loud and uneven and entirely her own. The crystal trees drank the sound. No bell rang in the hills. Briar laughed again, harder, and grabbed Gigglewick's sleeve, not to stop her, but to hold on. When the laughter slowed, Briar wiped her eyes. "It stayed," she whispered. Gigglewick nodded, but her gaze had drifted to the wall. The little blooms were brighter now, and through the packed earth above them, a faint scratching sound had started — as if something outside, something with claws, had felt the joy from below and turned toward it.