Monster

Basket Weaving

"First this way, then this... And now, you twist the reeds here. See?... Good. Now lets do another row. You try it this time..."

Patiently, old Grake held the child on his knees as they both bent over a basket that Grake was weaving, with little Hero helping him weave supple reeds in and out of the weave. All of them sitting on the porch as sun poured its summer warmth on them, Rangil looked at them and sighed, turning his dark green eyes to his own work.

"It's pointless to show him how to do it. He's going to forget all about it anyway. Humans... He doesn't have Kin Memory."

"Maybe he will forget. Or maybe he will remember it later." Grandpa Grake said patiently. He gently corrected the child's fingers to the proper positioning and then helped him pull the reed through. "The point is not teaching him how to make a basket, nephew."

"It's not? Then what is it?"

"The point is to show him what it is like to be loved. Everyone deserves to learn what that's like." Old villager said with a warm smile, his eyes on his foundling kind. At that, Rangil's shoulders slightly drooped and he frowned, as he irritably continued to pull the strands around his own basket, much faster and more efficiently than Grake was doing it now with little Human's help. His lips drew together tightly into a thin, grumpy line.

Noticing his mood, grandpa Grake roughed up Hero's unruly hair and set him off his knees. "Go find Margol and Tnul and see if you can help them with their chores." He directs the child, who reluctantly nods and runs off in direction of the barn.

"He'll just make more mess than help. Or he'll distract them again. You shouldn't have sent him." Rangil complains as he looks at the little non-Human with dislike.

Grake sighs. "You still cannot forgive him. Even though he had nothing to do with your brother's disappearance."

Rangil frowns more and his lips twist as guilt mixes with anger within him. He returns his gaze back to his basket and stubbornly thrusts the strands into their places, his hold on the basket tightening. One of the strands splits and he briefly puts the basket aside, glaring at it resentfully.

"He disappeared because of him, uncle. Because he went to find the Humans. Even though he knew that there are no safe ways out of the Valley."

"Perhaps he found them and they took him far away?"

"He is gone, uncle! Respawned! Even if he remembers us, it won't be until years later, when he is old and we are all already gone. That's how Kin Memory works with us Villagers. It's hopeless to expect him to return. He will not! So yes, I cannot forgive him. Even though I know that it is not his fault, I feel that it is. As well as mine. If I hadn't told them what that accursed witch told him, he would have still been here with us. I cannot forgive myself."

Old Grake sighed and looked away. "Do not speak like that, kari. Each one of us made our mistakes. There is no turning back from them now, only moving forward. You know that in time, whether in this life or the next, you and your brother will meet again. You will respawn together again as young siblings. As will I, close to my family and friends. That's how Kinship Respawn works. The ties remain, no matter what happens to us now."

"I know that..." Rangil says, slightly calming down as he dwells on uncle Grake's words. "That's one good thing about being a Villager I suppose."

"Why, do you wish that you could respawn as someone else?" Grake suddenly smiles humorously and Rangil smirks, too.

"Well, I've considered spawning as a Creeper. Their lives are great really. All they do is Sing and Play all day long."

"They also explode." Grake reminded.