I thought about the "bees" buzzing inside me. Maybe they could help me again.
I sat up and formed another loose fist. This time I closed my eyes and imagined my bees flying into it, one by one, forming a single, compact ball. In my mind, they swarmed in my hand as they normally did, then they fused into one another, concentrating their power. One big bee.
When I opened my eyes and my hand, I smiled. I held a perfect flaming marble, and I could feel that it had the same energy mass as the first fireball. Siena would be so proud!
I missed her suddenly. Missed those days when she would watch me practice, like it was the most normal thing in the world. On those days, she made me feel like my gift was something to be proud of.
I rolled the fiery marble to my thumb and attempted to flick it forward with my fingers. It flew off weakly in a random direction, fizzling as it sank into the snow. I tried again, and this one, too, fizzled a short distance away.
I kept at it. I may have been impatient with people, but I was patience personified when it came to honing my gift. Anything less than perfect control meant unintended destruction—or even injuries—so my morning practice sessions could stretch on into the afternoon.
I kept at it until the sun began to set. By the time I stood up and shook out my soaked pants, I could smash powerful pellets into the boulder with a single flick of my fingers. The blast radius was minimal, concentrated to a small circle. When I inspected the boulder, I found little pockmarks in the rock from where each pellet had impacted. This was very different from the wide scorch mark of the first fireball, which had created no dents in the rock.
I was so pleased, I nearly skipped back to the house. Of course, this proved to be difficult with a cane and lame foot. So I settled for some fairly jaunty limping.
When I reached the house, Goben was sitting on the wooden floor of the front porch, tracing imaginary patterns with a stick. It reminded me of our days as kids, when I would often find him on the ground by the house, thinking or sulking, drawing in the dirt. He never strayed far from home, yet here we were, farther than either of us had ever been.
He watched as I limped toward him and slid down next to him.
"It's so strange to see you slowed down for a change," he said.
"Believe me, it's even stranger for me." I glanced at him. "You must be loving it, though."
His face pinched with mild offense. "Why? I feel terrible about it! You're the one who's gotten us this far. You got us out of that Aberration-burning mess. You got us through the blizzard. You did everything. All I did was get in your way. Because of me, you lost your shoes. Because of me, you lost your energy."
"I got it back—"
He stopped me with a raised hand. "I don't think I've ever felt so useless in my life, Sember. Now you want to go into that cave without me, and the sad thing is, I know I'd just get in your way there too. Why did you want me to come along on this trip, anyway? You'd have been better off without me."
I sat for several stunned heartbeats. I had suspected male pride was involved, but it seemed to run much deeper than that. "Goben, you have no idea how . . . " I struggled to put my formless feelings into words. "Growing up, would you say I was unstable?"
He shrugged. "Unstable seems a little harsh."
"Point one, you always believed in me. Our parents always doubted me. I always doubted me. You didn't. Point two,"—I held up two fingers—"I was unstable. You have no idea how much of a battle it was inside anytime something didn't go my way. You always found a way to calm me down, with your jokes and your hugs and your brotherly words of wisdom—"
A small grin brightened his melancholy face. "I said wise things?"
"To me they were. You stabilized me, Goben."
"Siena did that."
"She coached me. Showed me how to control my gift. But you . . . " It was strange that I was realizing this as I said it. "You were always there for me, with confidence I didn't have. You gave me strength when I felt like I was lost. Goben, you're the best big brother a girl could ask for. That's the real reason I wanted you with me."
Goben sat, silent, and I stole another sideways glance at him. He was blinking rapidly, so I gave him time to collect himself and process what I said, biding my time by lighting a flame over one finger. I heard him sniff once, so I lit another finger. I wiggled the two fingers around, then lit all five.
"That actually is pretty neat," he said at last, eyes fixed on the small flames.
"You didn't think so the first time," I said, glad he was talking again.
"I was teasing." He paused a moment, placed an arm around my shoulders, and quietly added, "I love you, Squirrel."
I smiled and leaned into him, snuffing the flames from my fingers. "I love you too, big brother. No hard feelings?"
"You still want to go into that cave without me?" He resumed drawing patterns with the stick again.
"I don't want to, but I think it's the right thing to do."
"It doesn't feel right, though." His stick stopped moving. "I should be the one to go."
"And I should stay to learn about herbal remedies?" I made a scoffing noise. "Goben, plants bore me."
"They do? But you and Siena—"
"I know. She often tried to teach me how to identify them when I followed her on gathering trips. But I couldn't stop yawning. Unless it involves burning or eating plants, I don't think herbology is for me."
His stick resumed drawing invisible circles on the porch. "It still doesn't feel right."
I squeezed his arm, stilling it. "You'll always be my big brother, and I'll always need you. But right now, Foresthome needs you more."
A slow sigh escaped his throat and he nodded, turning to me. "Just do me one favor."
"What's that?"
"Come back alive."
I leveled my gaze onto his green eyes, so much like my own. "Bet on it."
How about a vote for big brothers everywhere! Well, at least this one. :D
YOU ARE READING
Sember (Forestfolk, Book 2)
AdventureLittle Sember stole readers' hearts in "Siena." Join her now, ten years later, as she embarks on a quest of her own to save her people, and to finally accept her true self along the way. - - - Sixteen and struggling is not how Sember wants to descri...