“Kieran, sweetheart. Wake up.” A familiar voice reached her in the distant corner of her mind and pulled her out of her hiding. Kieran had woken hours before, but didn’t want to face the night and forced herself back to sleep.
“Kieran, its me, honey. Now come on, you have to wake up.” By now Kieran was awake enough to recognize Tarah’s voice. And with it came Tarah’s thoughts of The Calling. Kieran sighed internally, then opened her eyes to darkness and sighed externally. Some nights the blackness seemed heavier and more overwhelming than others. This was one of those days.
“I’m up,” she said to the woman who had raised her. Tarah was kindly and soft and she was the only mother Kieran could remember. She had even stayed in Kieran’s niche that first year, making sure the little girl wasn’t scared of the darkness anymore.
“Don’t you make that face at me,” Tarah said, a smile in her voice.
“What face?” Kieran asked, still groggy.
“The one that says that you want to feed me to the beetles.”
“Oh,” Kieran said. “The “You woke me up” face.”
Tarah laughed. “Yes, that one.”
Kieran nodded and rubbed her eyes. She watched as a few muted bursts of color spread over her sight, then faded back to nothing.
“But I hope you’ll forgive me this time. It only an hour or so until The Calling begins. The youths have already begun taking their places.” Tarah stopped and Kieran knew what she meant to say next.
“Don’t,” Kieran said quietly. “I don’t want your pity.”
“Very well,” Tarah agreed. “But I need to speak with you later.”
Kieran felt the weight of Tarah’s words and the importance they held for her. This talk they must have later had something to do with Kieran’s future, but now that the words were fading to memory and Kieran could no longer hear Tarah’s intention, she couldn’t tell how.
With a silence that Kieran knew well, Tarah turned from her and left her niche with a swish of the curtain. Curiosity frayed Kieran’s mind, but as the bustling in the Den grew more boisterous, a glum set in, engulfing every inch of her.
She wondered if anyone would notice her absence if she just hid in her niche or went Topside. For a tragic moment, that’s exactly what she planned to do. But then, the memory of Lucien’s skin against hers came crashing into her depression and she knew she couldn’t hide from this. She had to be there. Had to make sure he was happy and finally accepting. Had to see who she was losing him to.
Slowly, she walked to her table and felt for her hairbrush. It took a moment to find it - she had set it further to the right than she usually did. Methodically, she forced the bristles through her thick hair. Something about the calm, soothing motion caused tears to rise in her eyes. She swept them away and focused on her task.
Then she heard the curtain swish behind her and knew who it was without having to ask.
“Here, let me,” Lucien offered. He took the brush from her and carefully took up the occupation. He paid special attention to his claws, fearing they would tangle her wispy locks.
“Shouldn’t you be getting ready?” she asked, and even to her, her voice sounded tired. It was proving very difficult to fake happiness.
“I was thinking,” he said and she forced herself only to hear the words his mouth was forming. “This isn’t the end of us, is it? I’m not going anywhere, and neither are you. So why should this be the end? Even if I do find another soul mate today - which I doubt - that doesn’t mean we can’t still have each other or be friends.”
“Sure, Lucien,” she agreed, only because she didn’t want to tell him the truth. She didn’t want to have to tell him that he was being naïve and stupid and he was only making it harder by clinging to her. She didn’t want to remind him that all the adults said that when you hear that special song, all the other women (or men) in the world seemed to die away and leave only that one. No one else mattered much, especially in the time just after The Calling when the love was so new. She didn’t want to admit to him that she didn’t think her heart could stand this, or that it was already building new walls against him.
“I mean this,” he insisted, seizing her shoulders and spinning her around to face him. “I don’t want to lose you.”
“You aren’t losing anyone, Lucien,” she whispered. Then she stood and took his hand. “Come now. You must find your soul mate.”
He followed her out into The Den without any more words. He sensed that she was done with this now. She had brought up her shields, prepared for a battle in which she had no weapon.
“Lead me to Tarah?” she asked, feeling lost and terribly alone.
“Okay.”
They walked most of the way, hand in hand. It took much more room and effort for her to fly than for him, and at the moment, they both felt it okay to take their time.
“She’s up above us in a shallow niche,” Lucien told her. He stepped away to give her wings room, but still kept hold of her hand. Kieran was relieved to feel that her wings were just barely tender from her scrape the night before, and let them push her up into the air. Wind swirled around her as Lucien’s hand guided her upwards.
“Right here, hon,” Tarah’s voice called out to her. Kieran found the little niche easily then, and squeezed Lucien’s hand before letting it go. He dropped into oblivion before her. Tarah patted the girl’s arm and started describing the things Kieran couldn’t see - the two crowds of youths with a wide path between them, the girls that fluttered and fussed, the boys who puffed themselves up before the other guys, but withered when they thought no one was looking, and the pointed attention of certain people who had hopes for who their soul mate would be.
Kieran was grateful for Tarah’s distractions and the easy, cheerful way she was forcing on the conversation. If it hadn’t been for Tarah’s efforts, the conversation would’ve fell victim to Kieran’s dark mood. She was to self-absorbed at the moment to think of anything to say. She felt slightly ashamed at that, so she focused on Tarah’s descriptions. Her imagination, and the thoughts behind Tarah’s words painted the picture for her, as her eyes blinked emptily.
“Here we go,” Tarah whispered as the feel of the Den shifted. Kieran felt it. It seemed as if all was hushed and focused. The was no sound, not even of people moving.
Kieran knew what was happening. It had been explained to her before hand. One by one, the young Dwellers would stand in the row between the two groups, and sing. They would sing until someone was compelled by the beauty of their song to stand and join them. Then, the couple would leave together and descend deeper into the caverns to be alone.
What Kieran didn’t know, but soon found out, was that she couldn’t hear the songs of the Dwellers. They were in a frequency that she couldn’t hear, she guessed. So, she sat in the silence, listening to the light footsteps of the couples as they joined and left the Den. Her mind floated away, trying to find ways to pass the time. But, those ways didn’t help her mood any. What will my life be like? she wondered. All the Dwellers would pair up and live out their lives together. What did that leave for her? Maybe she could find an expertise to master in, and become useful to the Dwellers…but what? Going Topside maybe. To gather new foods, or healing herbs or something.
But could she be happy with only that?
Tarah’s hand wrapped around Kieran’s arm. She marveled at the softness of Tarah’s palms that roughened, hardened and tapered into the woman’s claws. She made a fist of her own hands. Soft all the way around, except the small patches of hardened skin at the tips and a little row at the base of her fingers. Suddenly, she remembered being small and discovering those patches. She thought they were going to grow and become claws. The disappointment she felt when she found out that they weren’t was near crippling.
Tarah’s mouth was near Kieran’s neck, suddenly, and she could feel her breath floating down over her neck. “Lucien,” she whispered.
Kieran’s heart sank. Her senses stretched as she tried to pick up something, anything, so she could tell what was going on. Her head began to ache, but still she heard nothing and of course saw nothing. Finally, after a few agonizing moments, Tarah bent to speak again.
“Gwendolyn.”
