Sassy's Arc

Chapter 2 of 5

The willow's cry rolled through the trees and into Sassy's cavern. His seeker lay curled by the ashes, deep in her trance, her breath slow and even. Then her eyelids flickered. The tree's wail was pulling her back. Sassy pressed the medicine pinch into her palm and ran toward the market. If he could quiet the tree, she would stay under. If he failed, her fragile trance would break. He reached the willow. Water poured from its carved face. Its branches thrashed though no wind blew. Sassy knelt and cupped his hands under the fresh tears. "I took what wasn't mine," he said. "I give it back." He poured the water against the trunk. The tree only wailed louder. He had no way to undo the trade. "Won't work, mate." A man stood at the edge of the market. He wore a pink tank top and blue shorts, and his sneakers were caked in mud from long walking. He watched the tree, not Sassy. "You can't pour sorrow back in. Doesn't go that way." Sassy stood. "Then how do I stop it?" "You listen to it." The man crossed to the willow and set one broad hand flat on the bark. His voice dropped low. "I chased a thing that got forgotten once. Left too long. Turned bad." He stopped himself. "You don't quiet grief by burying it. You let it be heard." Sassy understood. He had told the platypus that pure grief could open a heart. He had used the willow's tears as medicine. But he had never let the tree grieve with him. He sank down before the trunk and pressed his forehead to the wet wood. "I hear you," Sassy said. "You lost your tears to a stranger. That was my doing. I feel it too." He stayed there, not asking for silence, only staying. The wail climbed. Then it cracked. Then it fell to a long, low moan, like a held breath let go. The branches stilled. Water still ran down the face, but softer now, steady. The tree wept the ordinary way a willow weeps. The scream was gone. Sassy lifted his head. The man had already stepped back toward the carriages. "She'll hold now," the man said, nodding toward the trees. "Go." Sassy ran back. The seeker lay still. Her breath was slow again. Her eyelids no longer flickered. The trance had held. He crushed the rest of the medicine and set the doorway open before her. But the willow's calm cost him something he only saw now. He had traded its true tears to the platypus. Those tears sat in a jar at the market stall. The seeker's rite needed a medicine that opened grief, and the strongest one he owned was no longer his. He had spent the sorrow that could wake her.