Nature Rules - 2022 WATTY'S SHORTLIST

Fanning the Flames

It's well past supper and Mom hasn't come home yet. I quell the howling in my stomach with a mug of hot water. Dad is pacing up and down the main room, his hands constantly going through his hair. Crinae sits in a corner, staring at the door and Elody chatters to her dolls in our bedroom.

"She'll be back," mutters Dad. To us? To him? To anyone? "She'll be home soon."

The hours count down and Mom is still missing. Dad cleans his gardening tools with an old cloth under the light of a lamp. He's keeping busy. Crinae and I wait to hear the scuff of Mom's grey hiking boots on the ground outside. Only the wind whistling through the door makes the only noise. My insides feel queasy and not because I haven't eaten anything. Mom has been known to forget time when she's having a good chat. This wouldn't be the first time she didn't make it home before dark.

"It's late," says Dad. "Time for bed. Your mom must have been catching up with friends and lost track of time. You'll see her in the morning."

We leave our father sitting outside the cave alone, holding a candle in the hope Mom finds her way to it. I don't know if he'll sleep or not. Crinae, Elody and I won't. We all hold hands in our bedchamber but don't say a word about Mom's disappearance. That would be admitting she might not be back.

In the morning, when Crinae opens the door to let the fresh air in, she finds Dad. He's sitting outside. Awake. Still waiting. The candle went out long ago.

"Coming in?" she asks.

"No, give me a few more hours."

It's scary to see Dad this way, vulnerable, stressed and worried. Where is Mom? She's never left us this long before. We're leaving for the census today. Surely she'll be back before the storm?

I'll have to send Crinae and Elody off on their chores. I'll have to fetch water today too. I know my abilities would provide us with water but climbing the mountain is something that'll take my mind off of what's happening at home.

"I'll go get water," I tell Dad.

"No," he says sharply, putting his hand on my shoulder. "Naia, you're going to the garden today with your sisters."

"I never work in the garden."

"I'm not separating you three."

"We're separated every day. You've never been like this before."

"There are people I trust at the garden to keep you all safe."

"Safe from Motos?" I ask as he drops his arm to his side.

"Just safe, Naia. Leave it."

"Are we still leaving for the census?"

"What is with all these questions?"

I wrinkle my nose at him to plug up another question: why are you snapping at me?

"Sorry, Naia," sighs Dad. "We probably won't be leaving today. The storm is too close."

Crinae's moving slower than usual. Her eyes are puffy and red. Elody is as chipper as usual.

"Maybe Mom found some new friends," she says, "and is having too much fun playing with water."

"You could be right," I say to my youngest sister, mussing her hair up.

After a quick bite of beans and some nuts, my sisters and I head off for the garden a few minutes away. Before we left, Dad gave Crinae strict instructions not to touch anything except for the shovel. Elody and I are left with the bulk of the work such as watering and harvesting. We're all told to watch for Mom on the trail to and from the Flats.