About half a dozen earthworms wriggled in discomfort in the damp soil at the sudden exposure to the crisp morning air.
“I just don’t get it.”
Eden plucked the worms from the ground and stowed them in a small linen bag. She pulled two strings to shut it and hung it from her belt. Her brother kicked a pebble into a tree.
“Well… it’s complicated, Ed. You’ll understand when you’re older.”
The sound of babbling grew louder as they trekked towards the river.
“It’s only a couple of months till my birth”—Eden launched herself off a mossy rock—“day.” She landed on both feet atop a pile of leaves and looked over her shoulder. Talion’s gaze was locked on the ground. “You know, mom’s older and she didn’t seem to get it either,” she prodded.
Her brother’s gaze lifted to meet hers. His frown deepened.
“Mom’s been a little distracted lately. And I’m just looking out for us, Ed. Someone has to.”
They came upon the shore of the gentle, chatty river. Eden chose a large boulder to sit on and produced one of the wriggling earthworms from her linen pouch.
“We look out for each other, right?”
Talion hooked the worm on the end of his fishing line and cast it into the lazy current.
“Well, yeah, but you’re little. I gotta look out for you more because I’m older.”
Eden watched a bunch of tiny mayflies flit around her brother’s head as he focused on the water. She sighed quietly. Further downriver, she watched a frog lounge on a patch of soil, its skin glistening against the sunlight, its throat falling and rising rapidly, in time with its breathing. The frog leapt from the shore and into the water. A robin whistled a cheerful tune from someplace out of sight.
“Maybe I can look out for Crane and Fletcher because I’m older. And maybe if Lenore keeps helping with the garden, mom’ll be less distracted.”
Talion scoffed. The fishing line tensed.
“It’s not”—Talion pulled on the line —“the same, Ed.” He eased his grip, changed the direction of the pull. “We’re family.”
The trout leapt. Talion loosened his pull on the line till the fish was back under the water, then he pulled again, drawing it closer and closer to the shore. Eden approached the shore. Talion lifted the trout out of the water, thrashing uselessly against the air. Eden grabbed and stilled it, using both hands. Talion unhooked it from the line, and Eden walked back to the boulder she had sat on, setting the fish down against its smooth, cool surface.
“Well, but that’s what I don’t get because they could be family too, and then I wouldn’t have to be the youngest kid. Besides,” Eden drew her knife and cut down like her dad had taught her when she was younger. “I think dad would’ve wanted mom to be happy, Tal. She seems happier, now, sometimes.”
Talion tensed like the fishing line.
“Do you even remember what dad was like, Eden?”
Eden fished another earthworms from her linen pouch. Despite her, her eyes began to draw water.
“Of course I do, I…”
Her brother’s face softened immediately.
“I’m sorry, Ed. I shouldn’t have… listen, I’m really sorry, okay? But I don’t want to talk about this anymore. Hey, are you okay?”
Eden drew a steadying breath, then nodded. She lifted the wriggling earthworm up for Talion.
He took it with one hand, and put the other hand on top of her head, then leaned down so that their eyes were level.
“I’m sorry you feel kinda caught in the middle, Ed, but it’s not your job to work everyone’s problem’s out for them, okay? Mom and I… we’ll work things out, okay?”
“Okay.”