“
If you could go back to Trehaug, would you want to?”
“What?”
“Last night you said you couldn’t go home. I wondered if that was what you really wanted to do.” He followed her silently for a time, then added, “Because if it was, I’d find a way to take you there.”
She stopped, turned and met his eyes. He seemed so earnest, and she suddenly felt so old. “Tats. If that was what I really wanted to do, I’d find a way to do it. If I left now…well. It all would have been for nothing, wouldn’t it? I’d just be Thymara, slinking back home, to live in my father’s house and abide by my mother’s rules.”
He furrowed his brow. “ ‘Just Thymara.’ I don’t think that’s such a bad thing to be. What do you want to be?”
That stumped her. “I don’t know. But I know that I want to be something more than just my father’s daughter. I want to prove myself somehow. That’s what I told my da when he asked why I wanted to go on this expedition. And it’s still true.”
They’d come to the next trunk and Thymara started up it, digging her claws into the bark. The same claws that had condemned her to a half life in Trehaug might be her salvation out here, she thought.
Tats came behind her, more slowly. When Thymara reached a likely branch, she paused and waited for him. When he caught up with her, his face was misted with sweat. “I thought only boys felt things like that.”
“Like what?”
“That we have to prove ourselves, so people would know we were men now, not boys any longer.”
“Why wouldn’t a girl feel that?” Her eyes had caught a glint of yellow. She pointed toward it, and he nodded. At the end of this branch, out over the river, a parasitic vine garlanded the tree. The weight of hanging yellow fruit sagged both vine and branches. It swayed and she saw the flicker of wings. Birds were feeding there, a sure sign the fruit was ripe. “I don’t know if the branches will take your weight.”
“I’ll find out.”
“Your choice. But don’t follow me too closely.”
“I’ll be careful. And I’ll stick to my own branch.”
And he was. She ventured out onto the branch, and he transferred to one beside it. She crouched, digging her claws in as she ventured toward the vine. The farther she went, the more the branch sagged.
“It’s a long drop to the river, and shallow down there,” Tats reminded her.
“Like I don’t know,” she muttered. She glanced over at him. He was belly down on his branch, inching out doggedly. She could tell he was afraid. And she knew that he wouldn’t go back until she did.
Proving himself.
“Why wouldn’t a girl want to prove herself?”
“Well.” He gave a grunt and inched himself along. She had to admire his nerve. He was heavier than she was, and his branch was already beginning to droop with his weight. “A girl doesn’t have to prove herself. No one expects it of her. She just has to, you know, be a girl.”
“Get married, have babies,” she said.
“Well. Something like that. Not right away, the having babies part. But, well, I guess no one expects a girl to, well—”
“Do anything,” she supplied for him. She was as far out as she dared to go, but the fruit was barely within her reach. She reached out and took a cautious grip on a leaf of the vine. She pulled it slowly toward her, careful not to pull the leaf off. When it was near enough, she hooked the vine itself with her free hand. Carefully she scooted back on the parasitic vines had very tough and sturdy stemwork. She’d be able to pull it from here and pluck as much fruit as she wanted.
Tats saw that, and she credited his intelligence that he stopped risking himself immediately and backed along the branch. He sighed slightly, watching her. “You know what I mean.”
“I do. It didn’t used to be like that, with the early Traders. Women were among the toughest of the new settlers. They had to be, not only to live but to raise their children.
”
”