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Brilliant rays of buttery sunlight caress the earth. Morning fog has evaporated and the storms that laid claim to the area overnight have burned off. A cloudless, cobalt-blue sky unfurls as far as I can see, greeting the horizon line and contrasting the rich gold, red and orange of treetops. Autumn is near. Day and night will balance, their hours becoming equal. Trees will shed their leaves, offering the bounty of their limbs as they flutter from branches to the ground. Crops will be harvested. It is a time of preparation, of the appreciation of all things that are impermanent in the land. And all I feel is joy. Joy and peace.
Once upon a time, thoughts of peace of any kind were futile. Joy was a dream. An unattainable dream. There was a time when the best I could hope for was to keep my sister June alive and survive for the day. But all of that has changed. Ten years have passed. A treaty has been formed between Urthmen and humans. Peace has come to fruition, a feat I never dreamed possible but revel in each and every day of my life. Especially now as I bump along in the passenger seat of our pickup truck. Sully is seated beside me, one hand on the steering wheel while the other holds my hand as he drives. I glance at him and see that the sun highlights his sandy blonde hair, kissing the paler strands that streak it from hours spent in the summer sun. Time has sharpened the angles of his features, refining them. Gone are the softer edges of youth. The youth we shared when we met more than a decade ago. Sensing my eyes upon him, he slides a sidelong glance my way. Our gazes meet fleetingly and he smiles the crooked smile that stole the breath from my lungs and caused my pulse to race the very first day I met him. Time hasn’t lessened the effect. My heartbeat still quickens at the sight of it. He and I are over thirty. Thirty was a landmark I never fathomed we’d reach, yet it is upon us. The years have served Sully in all ways. At the moment, what I see is my partner, the father of our children, my best friend. My love, who is as handsome as ever. As if intuiting the sentiment, his grip on my hand tightens.
“What’s going on in that mind of yours?” Sully asks. He winks at me jauntily. But before I can answer, John, one of our twin seven-year-old sons, begins speaking excitedly. I turn to face him.
“Do you think Prince Garan will like the sword I made?” John asks. He shoves the weapon forward and looks at me with wide, expectant eyes. I shift so I can inspect it. He’s shown it to me several times in recent days but since we are about to see our friend, Prince Garan, son of the Urthmen King, he’s eager to have me look it over once more. Essentially, it is a tree branch. A thin, bent tree branch with a slender tip he whittled and tried to sharpen with flat stones. Of course I don’t tell my son that. To him, it is a deadly sword capable of besting the most ferocious of beasts. I’m immensely proud of his imagination and his enthusiasm. His energy and his ability to undertake the task he was given.
Taking the proffered sword in my hands, I stare at it thoughtfully. I turn it over, examining it. Nodding, I say, “I think he’ll be very impressed with this sword.” My gaze remains pinned to the weapon and I can fairly feel the bubbles of excitement effervescing in John’s belly. “Your hard work shows.” I hand it back to him, one hand cradling each end as if it is the most revered article I’ve ever touched. “Just be careful with it. Be careful not to hurt yourself or your brother. Weapons are a responsibility to have.”
“I know,” John adds excitedly. A tuft of his pale hair sticks up near his crown and his dark eyes twinkle with delight. “We have to be very, very, very careful!” He bobs his head then looks to his brother beside him. To William, he says, “Will, show her yours!” He cranes his neck and places his face close to his brother’s. “Show her,” he encourages. William doesn’t look up at John, though. His eyes are cast to what sits in his lap. To me, John says, “It’s so cool! He didn’t even play this week. At all. He just worked on that.” He tilts his head toward what William crafted. His eyes round as he shakes his head, struggling to believe that anyone would give up time spent playing in favor of time spent working. “But he did a good job. It looks nice.”
“I agree,” I smile and say. I study William. Resting on his thighs is the weapon he made. He doesn’t thrust it forward and he doesn’t look away from it when he mumbles “thank you” to John. Made from tree bark he gathered near a site where log homes are under construction, it is unmistakably a dagger. A cylindrical shape serves as a handle at the base then slants to a long, pointed tip. He spent countless hours in the last week smoothing it, shaping it, and then finally sharpening it. The result is impressive. “You worked very hard, Will.” I smile at him warmly. “I’m sure Prince Garan will like the dagger you made. I know I sure do.” My eyes lower to the weapon.
William’s gaze follows mine to the dagger. Our eyes link for a moment, his bright-green eyes searching mine, then his cheeks redden. A small smile tugs at the corners of his mouth. But instead of maintaining eye contact with me, his gaze falls. He looks down at the dagger, slowly inching his hands toward it until they rest atop it, covering it.
“You boys did a great job,” Sully says as he stares into the rearview mirror at them. “I’m really proud of you both, and Prince Garan will be, too.” He smiles broadly at them.
John leans forward. “Thanks, Dad!” He beams at his father, his posture straightening at the compliment.
William rolls his shoulders forward slightly. “Thank you,” he says, his voice quiet. A quick smile lights his face, lifting just one side of his lips, before he gazes out at the world rolling by beyond the window. His smile is so much like his father’s, yet on his face it’s uniquely his.
“Are you guys excited about the celebration?” Sully asks.
“Yeah, I am,” John says. “Only I don’t see what the big deal is.” He shrugs.
“Well, it’s been ten years of peace between humans and Urthmen. That’s a pretty big deal, right?” Sully asks, his eyes toggling between the road ahead and our sons.
John shrugs again. “I guess. I don’t know.”
“It is a big deal,” William says softly. “Urthmen used to hunt humans. They didn’t like us. They hated us actually.”
Everyone’s eyes are on William. As a parent, I’ve said many things to my children. I’ve tried to share with them the knowledge I’ve picked up in my more than thirty years of life. I’m never sure how much of it they actually hear, much less absorb and retain. Sometimes I wonder whether they’re listening at all when I ramble on about the days before they were born. I don’t know why, but I’m shocked each time I learn that something I’ve said actually stuck. Hearing William say what he just said is proof positive that he listened to the history of our species I’ve discussed with him and his brother, and I am proud.
“Oh yeah, that’s right!” John says. “It’s just hard to imagine the Urthmen ever hated us because some of my best friends are Urthmen. Like Prince Garan and everything.”
Sully and I trade glances. “Prince Garan is your best friend, huh?” Sully asks.
John taps his chin with his index finger, considering his answer before he offers it. “My best, best, best friend is Will.” He gestures to his brother as if that point wasn’t obvious. “Then my best, best friend is you, Dad. And Mom. Then my best friend is Prince Garan.” He nods, satisfied with his thought-out explanation.
“I see,” Sully says. “I’m glad I made it in the top four choices!” he winks at me.
“Of course!” John says immediately. “You’re a great guy!” He tilts his head, his expression guileless. “Why wouldn’t you be one of my best friends?”
Sully laughs. “Thank you!” he replies. “I’m honored to be second to William.” William raises his chin at the sound of his father saying his name. Sully’s gaze connects with his. “Best friends don’t get any better than William.” Sully winks at William and William smiles. “And I’m glad Prince Garan is one of your best friends, too. Mom and I never had Urthmen best friends when we were your age,” he says. Then under his breath, he mutters, “They were too busy trying to kill us and make humans extinct.”
“What?” John asks incredulously. “Urthmen actually tried to kill you?” His eyes are round and his cheeks are flushed. “Did Prince Garan try to kill you?
That they heard! I think to myself. “No, no, sweetie. Prince Garan never tried to kill us.” I pause a moment to collect my thoughts. Then in a calm, soothing tone I say, “But there was a time when all Urthmen hunted humans. The time before peace was very scary for us. Humans had to hide to survive.” I’m reluctant to say anything further. I’ve kept the most horrific of details to myself while still sharing with them what it was truly like to live in a world where humans were hunted to the brink of extinction. I don’t want to scare them. “But you have nothing to worry about,” I assure them. “That time is behind us. Urthmen and humans get along now. And look how great things are!”
John’s eyes glitter with wonder. His expression fills my heart with joy so full and so complete I have to fight back happy tears. He nods. “Things are pretty great!” he agrees. “Will and I get to hang out with an Urthman prince, who’s also our best friend and has us make weapons for him.” He nudges his brother. “Didn’t Prince Garan say he might use the ones we make as models for the Royal Guard?”
William’s nose crinkles cutely while he thinks. He turns to face John. “I think so,” he answers.
“Yeah. Me, too.” John returns his attention to me. “It’s great!”
Smiling, Sully says, “It really is.” He takes my hand in his and interlaces his fingers with mine. I turn back in my seat so I face forward. The boys continue to chat about the Royal Guardsmen as the first town outside of Cassowary comes into view. Tyr, as it’s been named, is a location we visit often. It’s a place where goods and services are offered and exchanged, and a place where our favorite eatery happens to be, as well.
Spotting the restaurant, John calls out from the backseat, “Mom, can we stop at Vox?”
Vox, the restaurant we go to, happens to serve alcoholic beverages. Alcoholic beverages are not new to the Urthmen. Urthmen love to drink. But drinking is new to humans. I’m still not used to being around intoxicated Urthmen or humans, and I prefer to keep my children away from them. Vox, while fine in the hours just before sunset, tends to have morning and afternoon customers whose priAdele goal is to be inebriated.
“I’d like to stop,” Sully says quietly. “See if Mim is going to the celebration.”
Mim is the owner of Vox. He’s there working from the time it opens to the time it closes no matter what.
“I don’t know. We’re supposed to meet Prince Garan. By the time we transfer the food to our truck and the boys show him their weapons, I don’t think there’ll be time,” I think aloud.
“We are kind of pressed for time,” he agrees. “But if we keep it quick we should be okay.” Sully glances at me.
“I don’t mind stopping, but let’s just find Mim, ask if he’s going and leave. I don’t want the kids seeing all the drunk people at the bar.” I curl my upper lip in revulsion.
“We saw worse when we were their age,” Sully points out in a soft voice. “And it’s not like the boys will be doing shots or anything. They can see people drinking and acting like idiots and not want to be like them.”
Sully’s words are neither confrontational nor intended to belittle me. He simply offers a counterpoint. He’s right. As children, he and I witnessed death and destruction. Butchery and barbarism of the worst kind. The gentleness of the world my children enjoy is one that would’ve been foreign to me at their age. Why I bristle at them seeing Urthmen or humans under the influence of alcohol is a mystery to me.
“You’re right,” I say. “Let’s stop and see Mim. I’d like to know if he’s coming tonight, too.” The huge celebration taking place in Cassowary somehow wouldn’t be the same without Mim, an Urthman with whom we’ve become good friends over the last decade.
Sully smiles at me and gives my hand a gentle squeeze. We continue along down the road, passing storefronts that were once in a state of disrepair but have since been restored. Sully guides the truck to the area just outside of Vox. He slows to a stop and shifts gears to park.
“Yes!” John says as he slides to the door. “Wait ‘til I show Mim my sword. He’s gonna love it.” His head swivels to face William. “Bring yours, too!”
William hesitates, looking at the dagger in his lap for several moments before returning his attention to John. “I think I’ll leave it here,” he says quietly.
“Oh, come on! He’ll love it! It’s awesome and you gotta show Mim!” John tries to convince William, but William doesn’t budge on the subject.
“No,” William says. Though his tone isn’t forceful, it does not leave room for negotiation. I’m proud that at seven he manages to convey his resolve without anger or negativity of any sort.
John shrugs. “Okay.” He turns from William then scuttles to the door.
Everyone exits the truck. With the children at our side, we walk into Vox.
As soon as we open the door, the smell of animal fat cooking mixes with the sour stink of both alcohol that’s poured in glasses and alcohol that seeps from the pores of those who are seated at the bar. Though the sun is not yet positioned overhead and morning is still upon us, Urthmen occupy every chair behind the long wooden counter behind which Mim works, concocting drinks while managing the rest of the workers.
“Mim!” John calls out.
Mim, a squat, pudgy Urthman with asymmetrical eyes and the shortest arms I’ve ever seen on his species or mine, whips his head around. “Hey!” His smile is wide. “Look who’s here!” Mim waddles out from behind the bar. He approaches me first, embracing me inasmuch as he can with his stubby arms. “Avery! Sully! I never see you guys here at this time of the morning! What brings you here so early?”
I recognize just about every Urthman at the bar. They mumble greetings. A few even lift their glasses to us, the amber liquid inside sloshing from the movement. “Hi Mim! We’re on our way to meet Prince Garan and wanted to stop by and see if you’re coming to the celebration in Cassowary tonight.”
“And I wanted to show you my sword!” John pipes up and produces his stick. He assumes a stance and Mim feigns fear, stumbling back a few steps.
“Whoa! That’s some weapon. Where’d you get that?” Mim asks as he bends at the waist to inspect it.
“I made it all by myself.” John’s chest puffs out and his shoulders round.
“No way? You’re kidding me, right?” Mim’s eyes widen as he inspects the sharpened stick.
“Nope. I’m not kidding.” John shakes his head and grins.
Mim looks from the weapon to John then back again. “You did a fantastic job!” He turns toward William. “Did you make a sword, too?”
William’s gaze drops to his shoes. He doesn’t look up when he says, “No, I made a dagger.” His voice is so quiet Mim leans in and practically presses the holes where ears should be to William’s lips.
“Yeah, Mim, you gotta see it! It’s amazing! It’s so amazing he left it in the truck to keep it safe!”
Mim backs away from William and looks at John. “Is that right?” he asks enthusiastically.
“Yup.” John bobs his head.
“I believe you,” Mim replies then says, “Say, are you kids hungry? I have some bread in back that was just made. Go see the cook and tell him I said to give each of you a piece.”
John doesn’t need to be told again. He darts off, but not before taking William by the wrist and pulling him along.
“Such good boys!” Mim says after them. “And getting so big.” He shakes his head wistfully. “Ahh, time goes by so fast.”
“It sure does,” Sully agrees. “I still can’t believe ten years have passed since the Urthmen-Human peace began.”
“I know.” Mim nods. “Why not have a drink to celebrate early!” he suggests.
“Thank you, but we’ll pass,”’ Sully says. “It’s a little early to start drinking.”
An Urthman named George, who moments earlier was passed out with his head on the smooth wood of the bar, rears his head. “Iss never too earla drinnnk!” he slurs. With a piece of food stuck to his face and his look of bewilderment, I can’t fight the involuntary chuckle that escapes me. Giggling gives way to full-blown laughter. Sully joins in and so does Mim. When John and William return, each with a slice of bread, they look at us, puzzled.
“What’s so funny?” John asks.
“I dunno whass all the fusss about,” George says.
John just shrugs and looks at William, which induces another fit of laughter.
“You sure you don’t want a drink?” Mim struggles through laughter to speak. “This way you can look like George!” He’s gasping and doubled over with laughter.
Tears are streaming down my face and my stomach hurts from laughing so hard. Sully isn’t faring much better. His face is contorted in laughter and he’s barely able to catch his breath.
After several moments pass, the laughter dies down. We’re left with sporadic chuckles. I wipe my eyes with the back of my hands and say, “Mim, thank you. Thank you for this.”
Mim bows his head and says playfully, “My pleasure, Avery. I only wish to serve.”
I smile and remember why we stopped by Vox in the first place. “So, will we see you at the party?”
Mim shifts his weight from one leg to the other. He rubs the back of his thick neck, his fingers trailing over rolls of fat there. “I don’t know. I’ll try but I can’t shut the place down. I don’t want to lose business.”
“I understand,” Sully says. “You have four at home.”
“Yeah. Number five will be along in the spring,” he mentions.
“What? You didn’t tell us last time we were here!” I say and immediately hug him. “Congratulations!”
“Congratulations,” Sully adds.
“Thank you. Thank you,” Mim says to each of us. “I can’t wait. I love my kids so much! The more the merrier!”
“Oh that’s such great news! You’re such a good dad,” I say.
“I don’t know about the good dad part. I’m here more than I’m home. But it is good news. And when I’m home, I make the minutes count.” Mim’s smile is happiness personified.
“That’s what counts,” I say. “Good, quality time is worth more to them than being around all the time and ignoring them, right?”
“I suppose you’re right.” Mim nods.
I smile and say, “I hope to see you and your family later. We’ll be celebrating all night so try to get out of here early. The party won’t be the same without you and your gang.”
“I’ll be there,” Mim looks directly into my eyes and says.
“Great!” Sully says. Then to the boys, he says, “Come on, guys. Time to go.”
John groans and William lowers his chin to his chest.
“Bye, Mim!” John says.
“Bye, guys. I’ll see you later,” Mim replies.
“Thanks for the bread,” John adds before he starts walking with Sully.
“Thank you,” William says as well.
“You are welcome.” Mim waves.
We return to the truck. Once the boys are inside, Sully starts the engine. We drive toward the edge of town to meet Prince Garan. As the tires roll over bits of rock and sand, all I can think to myself is how I cannot believe this is my life. I turn and look at my children then at Sully and a sense of awe claims me. I am happy. Truly happy. I’m not embroiled in a battle for the survival of my species. I’m not hiding in trees or caves, eating rats to subsist. I’m not on the run. I’m just ... happy. My thoughts are centered on a party. A party that commemorates peace and freedom. My freedom. My family’s freedom. Our peace. As far as I can tell, life is pretty perfect.