THOUGH IT WAS DIFFICULT to know with certainty, when the sun finally broke through the rain, it was morning, and Sky guessed they’d been in the snag’s hollow for two nights.
The long delay should have weighed heavily on Nothing, but the sunlight gleamed warm and bright on dripping leaves and brilliant green ferns, sparkling in the air as if the whole world was clean and freshly ready for mischief.
As she emerged, she paused to smear a little blood for the demon, in thanks that it had left them alone, then walked toward the sounds of a stream. Her eyes ached from the light, but she lifted them toward the blue sky peeking through gently swaying branches of the rain-forest canopy. Everything smelled thickly of water and fertility. How had she never ventured out into the world? What had she been afraid of? No, she’d not been afraid; it simply never occurred to her to leave. Kirin had been in the palace, and so was she.
Nothing ducked her head and knelt at the stream. The clear waters trickled and danced around smooth stones flinty gray and bright marble white. Veins of glittering silver winked, and Nothing touched the rippled surface. She whispered, “Hello,” and thoughtlessly plucked a hair from her head and dropped it in. The long black hair fell gracefully to the water, contorting like an eel or Peaceday kite against the gentle flow.
Farther down the stream, a bubble emerged, the size of a human head, and two huge eyes blinked at her. The eyes popped atop the head, like a frog’s, and were grayish green. It rose slightly higher and opened a mouth that gaped toothlessly. But its gullet and tongue were vibrant red. The strand of Nothing’s hair slipped into its mouth and down its throat. The spirit snapped shut its mouth and blinked at her, then sank down into the stream again.
“Well,” said Nothing. “I hope, little stream, you like the taste of nothing.”
“Who are you talking to?” Sky asked, hunching down against the bank beside her.
Nothing cupped water in her palm and splashed him.
He cried out and batted her away. “I only just got dry!”
With a wicked smile, Nothing leapt at him, flinging her arms around his neck and laughing in his ear.
Sky roared, dropping the bags and water gourd. He stood effortlessly and reached up to grab her, still growling like a bear. Instead of dragging her off him and flinging her away, he dug his fingers into her ribs and tickled her.
Nothing’s mouth and eyes flew open and she kicked wildly, shrieking.
He did not let up, pinning her to his shoulder with one huge arm, tickling her side and stomach until she gasped for air, choking on her laughter. “Please…!” she managed, and Sky stopped. It was only then, as he cradled her more gently, that she realized he was laughing almost as hard as she’d been, and had fallen to one knee.
Bent over his shoulder, she patted the small of his back, and he patted her bottom in return, then pulled her around to perch her upon his thigh. It was secure as a bench and just as stony. She blinked a few times, focusing, and felt the heat in her cheeks. She murmured, for it was all she could manage, “I fed a hair off my head to the spirit of this stream. I think it liked it, so we can fill our cups.”
Sky nodded. His glee had sunk into a quiet smile. This close the demon-blue in his eyes was dark enough to be called black, and the flecks of human-brown were few.
“I didn’t know you could laugh,” Nothing teased.
“Babies have always made me laugh,” he teased back.
With a huff, she pushed to her feet, but a smile tugged at her mouth all morning.