CHAPTER 5

Tovi sat on her puffy little bed next to her window, holding two soft blankets in her hands. She and Tali were wrapped in them as newborns when they were delivered to the Tivkas in the middle of the night, nameless and crying. She often returned to them when she was looking for comfort.

She closed her eyes and tried to remember all that Tali had been up to right before he disappeared. He had suddenly been spending a lot of time without her. She thought he was with Silas, but was she wrong? Had he discovered Adwin in those hours away?

Tali. Even his name made her heart ache. There was so much about Tali that Tovi envied, but not so much that she despised him. She wished she could be more like him—somehow adventurous and grounded at the same time. He could be bold and tender, outlandish and careful, reckless and wise. She missed him more than she could bear.

Ganya and Avi began taking the children out into the wilderness as soon as they could walk and fend for themselves a bit. They would explore caves and marshes and dells, often playing games invented by Avi to keep them entertained. Who could pick the largest flower? Who could spot the strangest bird? Who could climb the highest in the tree? Who could swim the furthest in one breath? As the sun sank and the moon rose, they would lie on their backs and listen to Ganya tell the stories of the stars. They would sleep in one big bundle on the ground, warmed by a colorful fire.

As they grew older, Tovi and Tali went on these adventures without Avi and Ganya. They were often accompanied by Silas, but sometimes they wanted to go just the two of them. They were both lean and strong and had identical coloring, but there were some differences. Tali’s dark blue hair was short and thick with several cowlicks sending patches in odd directions, and Tovi’s was long and wavy. While Tovi was petite, Tali had grown very tall, and his features were far softer, possibly because he scowled so much less than his sister. Many of the girls in the village blushed or giggled when Tali was around, but he took little notice. With so much adventure on his mind, there was no room for romance.

Tovi and Tali were convinced that there were more villages out there, that it wasn’t just little Adia and the big city on Mount Damien. They would spend several days traveling in different directions, seeking any sign of habitation, convinced that Adwin and their parents were out there somewhere. Once, when circling Mount Damien so they could explore the foothills to the north, they startled a man with green hair holding a bow and arrow. They found themselves staring past the black arrowhead that was just inches from their noses, into the eyes of the strong hunter.

A few seconds passed, and the stranger did something unexpected. He lowered the bow, propped it against a tree, and removed one of his tattered gray gloves. He opened his palm, holding it in the air and showing Tali and Tovi the brown heart outline, just like those marking the Adians’ hands. Without a word, Tali raised his own hand, showing the matching heart. Just then another hunter crashed through the trees, and the mysterious man quickly re-gloved his hand and signaled that the twins should hide.

They left, but Tovi always regretted not staying and learning more about this strange sequence of events. They returned to that spot several times, but they never saw the green-haired man again.

Growing up, Tovi and Tali shared a bedroom. Once they were both in bed and the lanterns blown out, Tali always wanted to talk deep into the night. He would whisper across the room, prodding her for her feelings and thoughts. Sometimes the talks were deep and meaningful. More often, there were light-hearted arguments and Tovi’s constant commands, “Be quiet!” “Let me sleep!” “Leave me alone!”

“But, Tovi, did you see that hill beyond the one that we’ve explored before? How do you think Adwin’s magic works? What do you think he looks like? Where should we go tomorrow?”

She would throw a pillow at him, but it rarely stopped the barrage of questions or his attempts to get her to communicate. While she pretended to be annoyed, she adored her brother too much to really be mad.

Tovi folded the baby blankets and put them back in the trunk at the foot of her bed, closing the lid and securing the latch. She sat on her puffy mattress, leaning on her wooden windowsill and looking out into the forest.

Tali. She missed him so much that it physically hurt. Where had he gone? What happened to him? Was he ever coming home? Was he even alive? She felt so off-kilter without him. He had been the light that balanced her dark. What was she going to do?

“Hey, Tovi! What are you doing?” came a voice from above her.

Tovi looked up through the window toward Silas’ cottage and saw his downturned face.

“Want to head down to the river? I heard a lot of noise coming from there a little bit ago.”

Tovi hesitated. She had little interest in the fun and games of her fellow Adians, but Silas was already swinging on a vine and landing on the porch.

“Seriously, come on,” he prodded.

Reluctantly, Tovi left the safety of her little house and joined him. It took only five minutes for the water to come into view, and it appeared that all the young people of Adia had come out to enjoy the sunshine and warmth. There was much shrieking, laughing, and whooshing as water sprayed everywhere.

One by one, more Adians arrived as if the joy of the morning had called them closer. Some dove in from overhanging branches or leapt from boulders. Some ran straight in toward the center of the commotion. There was dancing, splashing, and water moving in every direction. Total, complete, wonderful chaos.

“Silas! Join us!” someone called from the center of the pandemonium. Silas swung into a nearby tree, ran along the lowest branch, and flung himself into the air, curling into a tight cannonball. He landed in the middle of the river, a huge wave engulfing his friends.

Tovi watched. She had known them her whole life, but she never felt as if she was one of them. Silas belonged. Tali belonged. But she did not. They would never understand the fears and painful questions that lurked in her heart and that Tali had somehow escaped.

Without a goodbye to Silas, Tovi returned home. She went back to her room and opened her trunk with the intention of holding the blankets a little longer. They were the only link she had to her family. She liked to imagine a lovely mother wrapping her babies in the blankets, gently and sweetly. Maybe their father, strong but tender, held one baby in each arm and kissed their foreheads. Maybe they sang a lullaby over them before they were taken away.

Goosebumps rose along her arms and neck. There was only one blanket in the trunk.

“Ganya, have you been in my room?” she yelled.

The older woman came to the door, wiping a bowl with a colorful towel. “No, dear. What’s wrong?”

Tovi stayed silent as she picked up the remaining blanket. She knew without a doubt that she had left the other folded inside, too.