So Bisma was the only one left in the Enchanted Forest, which made her feel utterly alone and afraid. The treehouse was cold and empty, and the next morning, she did not want to get out of bed.
But she needed to keep working; there was less than a week left, now. The harvest festival was in a few days, and the poison would reach Deeba’s heart two days after that. She kept at it all day, which at least kept her away from her silent home, kepther away from her thoughts. She worked herself to exhaustion, hoping that the moment she returned home, she would be able to sleep.
And yet she could not get any rest.
I cannot sleep, not without my sisters here. Our home always seemed to be cramped—in a cozy way but tight nonetheless. We never had any concept of personal space; we were always sitting with our elbows and knees touching round the table, or on top of each other on the sofas, or huddled beneath the same blankets. I rarely got through a meal without one of my sisters snagging a bite from my plate or even directly from my hand. I used to think it would be nice if we all weren’t so close all the time, but I realize now that things were just right.
I miss everyone desperately. I feel so utterly alone, more alone than I have ever felt before. That was not real loneliness, I can see that now, not when I compare it to this. This is a living thing, and I fear it will eat me whole. It makes me afraid, and I have never felt afraid in the Enchanted Forest before, which only makes it worse.
My home no longer feels like home.
She wrote to her friend, hoping that might ease her heart, but it did not help much. The Forest seemed as upset and lonely as her; everything felt strange and wrong, not the way it was meant to be. There was an absence of noise; the trees were still, and even the birds and forest critters were quiet.
She spent all night twisting and turning in bed, until exhaustion took over and she slept for two hours before dawn arrived and she woke again. Even then, it seemed all the color was gone from her world.
All day the fatigue scratched at her, wearing her down. She was so tired she could hardly see straight. She wanted to cry—no, what she really wanted was to sleep.
But even that night she couldn’t.
Finally, she gave up, lighting a candle, and that was when she noticed she had received a letter.
It is not strange that your home no longer feels so without your family. What is a home without its inhabitants? But do not think of yourself as entirely alone, I implore you.
You are not as alone as you think.
Your friend
He was right; she was not entirely alone. Which was why she got out of bed and descended the stairs of the treehouse, letting her feet carry her along the familiar path until she had left the Enchanted Forest, going to the one place that might feel like home.
‘Bis, is everything okay?’ Xander asked, worried. It was late, later than they had ever worked. The candles in the greenhouse were blown out, there was just the one in Xander’s hand now as he held it up between them.
He looked as though he’d been asleep; his hair was messy, his shirt hastily pulled on, open at the neck.
She didn’t know what to say, so she said nothing. As if understanding, Xander stepped aside from the doorway, letting her enter. Like a ghost haunting her family, she floated to where her five sisters lay.
They were all sleeping peacefully behind a wall of sheets, closed off. She checked each of their heartbeats, feeling them beat in tandem with her own. Xander trailed after her, saying nothing, just patiently holding up the candle so she would have light.
When she was done, she left that section of the greenhouse, pulling the curtain behind her.
‘Bisma, is everything okay?’ Xander asked, a hand on her arm.
She turned to face him, looking into his eyes. Moonlight streamed into the greenhouse, shafts of white light illuminating his face.
‘I didn’t know where else to go,’ she whispered. ‘The Enchanted Forest doesn’t feel like home anymore.’
He set the candle down, then pulled her into his arms. She didn’t hesitate; she hugged him back, bringing her hands up against his shoulder blades. His skin was deliciously warm. She inhaled the sweet and spicy scent of cloves.
Placing her cheek against his chest, she listened to his heartbeat, the sound like the steady fall of rain, just as comforting and sure.
Xander pulled back. He cupped her face in his hands, tilting her head so he could look into her eyes. He scanned her face. ‘Feeling a little better now?’
‘Yes,’ she breathed. She had immediately felt better once she saw him, like he was the cure to chase the poison from her veins. ‘I’m just so tired.’
‘Come,’ he said, leading her to sit down. Her shawl slipped from her shoulders, but he reached out and caught it, adjusting it, his fingers warm on her skin. He sat beside her, their knees bumping against each other.
‘I never asked,’ he said, ‘but what’s your story? I know all the others’ now.’
Bisma hadn’t spoken about it in a number of years, but she found she wanted to tell Xander about it now. She wanted him to know everything about her, every single tiny little thing. She wouldn’t mind being dissected by him.
