The Light Through the Leaves

by Glendy Vanderah

Ellis knew it was true. She would never see her daughter again. No one returned once they disappeared around that bend. Zane had been the first to show her that. From him, she’d learned to be careful of how much she loved anyone.

I’ve been wandering since I was nineteen.” “For how long?” “Three years. I can’t live any other way. None of us is meant to. You know that, right? Agriculture turned us into prisoners. We never wanted to grow crops and live in houses. We were nomads for millions of years.” He adjusted to face her. “You know that feeling you get when you live inside a house for too long? It doesn’t matter if it’s a little apartment or a house or a mansion. You’re gonna feel it. Do you know what I’m talking about?” She nodded. She had felt it. “That’s your genetic memories making you see, hear, smell, touch, and long for how we lived for hundreds of generations. Inside we’re still a nomadic species. All people feel it, but most of them don’t know what’s making them want something that’s always out of reach. They buy fancier cars and bigger houses, but it never makes them feel better. They just keep getting more depressed until they die.”

Jackie was staring at Raven. He had pretty eyes, big with many colors mixed in. Green, yellow, brown, maybe even some orange. But better than that was the happy way he looked at her. Raven thought that must be how a person looked at a friend, and she had never had a friend before.

Who could know their future with a person they cared about? And even if they did somehow find out something bad was going to happen with that person, would they give up on them? Let them suffer alone? Love couldn’t be removed like a thorn from a thumb.

She squeezed River’s hand and said, “Thank you,” and for once he didn’t make a sarcastic joke. He was getting more comfortable with being loved.